July 13th, 2011

Letter to my baby Daughter

 Понравилась статья в Marie Claire за Июль 11 (американская версия). Привожу полностью.

Small thing. Tiny blob. Little fat muncher in a hand-medown romper suit, blessed with your mother's sexy lips, your grandpa's mischievous eyes and your father's relaxed approach to table manners, twitching with glee in the warmth of a sunbeam in your baby-gym on the floor, baffled by the dangling cow and the squeaky sheep and the pig that rattles like a bell (and, frankly, who wouldn't be?), are you really going to read this letter one day?
At the moment, no years old and just learning to gurgle, it's hard to imagine you will ever be able to talk, let alone read. But if you are reading this, then I guess you learned in the end. And that's a great start. Reading and writing are everything. Language is power. Books are beauty. I hope you don't grow up playing video games, watching endless television, and speaking in street slang like a moron, peppering your hip inarticulacies with 'like' and 'you know' and 'innit'. I will still love you, of course, but I will be silently drowning my disappointment in gin.  
At the moment you are beautiful, and I hope you remain so. It will make everything much easier. I hope you are so damned beautiful that boys are afraid to come near. But not so beautiful that other girls hate you. So dress down, avoid hight fashion (which is for fools), go easy on make-up (until you are old and hiding lines) and twist your long hair up with a pair of clean knickers when you are cooking, because I knew a very beautiful girl who did that once, and it was the best thing I had ever seen.Collapse )
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