I appreciate deeply the fact that my parents' criticism of me are totally small potatoes, and mostly either laughed at or easily ignored.
One that amuses me the most was when I got my nose pierced. I was 18, a freshman in college, and got it pierced the weekend before Thanksgiving. I was nice enough to tell my mom about it before she saw me, and she was about as dubious as I expected her to be. When she saw it for the first time, she told me, "I guess it's not so bad, if you don't mind having a silver zit on your nose for the rest of your life." Gee, thanks Mom.
I am now 28 and still have said nose piercing. People still ask me when I got it done, even though the answer is usually something along the lines of "6 years before I met you." If people notice it at all (which they mostly don't), it's because they like it and think it looks good. I pierced my nose in the first place because I have an exceptionally nice one and wanted to decorate it (
), but I am also fortunate that the guy who pierced it did an exceptionally good job in choosing a location for the piercing.
The other one that has always amused me is my dad's thoughts on makeup. Both my parents came of age in the 60s and 70s, and I'm originally from Texas. My dad's mental picture of "woman wearing makeup" is someone with foundation troweled on so thick it'll crack if she so much as smiles, 1/4" thick eyeliner, and uber-blond hair teased within an inch of it's life.
At least for the past decade or so, I have leaned very heavily towards the "Makeup? What makeup?" look. My dad has absolutely no idea when I'm wearing makeup, because it doesn't look like his mental picture. But if I tell him that I'm wearing it (or someone else does), he'll get all disapproving because makeup is over the top. For him, there is no middle ground between "no makeup" and "1970s Texas Beauty Queen makeup."
My hair has sort of recently become a bit of a bone of contention, mostly with my mom. I recently discovered that my hair is curly, and so I style it in such a way that the strands stick together in clumps (to form locks of hair) because it defines the curls and keeps frizz at bay. My mom's opinion of this is that "your hair used to be so soft" and to make mostly-not-joking jokes about how I never let her touch it anymore.
The irony to this whole thing is that the texture of my hair is exactly
like my mom's (only her hair is thinner, finer, and less frizzy). She wears it short now, so the length and the fact that it's actually more manageable than mine means she can comb it and still have it look nice. She's told me dozens of stories about the lengths she used to go to to get straight hair (none of which could ever compete against humidity), but still scoffs at me when I tell her I wear my hair the way I do pretty much entirely because my hair laughs in the face of blow dryers and flat irons. Even if I wanted to wear it brushed so it's smooth and straight (I don't), it's never once in my life actually done
that. Even when I spent half an hour every morning blow drying it in high school, the ends would still curl and the whole lot of it would get frizzy and tangled.
Seriously, both my siblings and my dad have extremely curly hair. I'm pretty much over fighting genetics here. I'll take smooth ringlets my mom isn't allowed to touch over frizzy, wavy, tangled hair that nothing can beat into submission any