I learn a lot from my kids.
My 15-year-old has never been one to follow the crowd. She’s smart, strong-willed, opinionated, thoughtful, driven. As a toddler she would frequently demand “ball ah mah-self!” (All by myself.) At two she was in charge of her wardrobe, combining yellow rubber boots with a skirt, a cat tail and rabbit ears. I never stood a chance.
At 13 she discovered her look: an upgraded version of her youthful rebellion. Doc Martens, fishnets, choppy purple hair (cut by me or her), ballerina skirts, cat ears (it’s a Manga thing), gothic/theatrical makeup. (You should have seen the looks we got when we were hiking in the Australian outback.) A friend once told me that she likes to watch my daughter pass by her house every morning before school, just to see what she’d be wearing. No two days are the same.
Sometimes my girl looks elegant, sometimes she looks intimidating — but she always looks confident: a girl who knows who she is, what she wants and how she wants the world to see her.
I remember being 15; confidence didn’t even enter my vocabulary. I didn’t want to be myself; I wanted to fit in. I totally admire my daughter for being bold, authentic and confident — it took me 35 years to achieve that sort of self-confidence. How do you do it? I once asked her.
I don’t, she told me. I don’t always feel confident. I feel vulnerable. So I dress confidently. I pretend. I decide to look confident — and when I look confident, I start to feel confident.
In other words: fake it until you make it.
It sounds simple, but it works. Smile and you start to feel happy. Force yourself to chill out and you start to feel relaxed. Ditch the sweat pants and baggy sweater when you’re feeling fat and unattractive; put on something a little nicer, a little tighter, a little sexier, and lo-and-behold you start to feel a little more attractive.
And that’s what the world sees: a confident/happy/relaxed/attractive person. With cat ears.










