The Becoming of a Woman Complexity

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One of the best lessons that seemed to have escaped from my mother’s curriculum on how a girl have to behave must have been the challenges that come with growing into womanhood. Unfortunately, that was a route that I was doomed to travel through by myself as I had to find the ropes and try to figure matters out for myself. The sure thing is that it is not an effortless route; however, so far I can say with boldness that it was worth each and every single moment. The obvious thing that seems to have glared its unsightly head way after I had safely landed into the womanhood zone was the dangers lurking at each and every corner for young girls. At a time when I was all alone and basically the sole driver and passenger of my destiny, I was too focuses to notice all the many dynamic ways that things could go wrong. By good riddance, that is how I survived, by ignorance and stroke of luck.

Despite the level of calmness and pride that marks my successful pilgrim into womanhood; one question still always lingers at the back of my head, the question of where my beloved mom was when I needed her the most. Well, that is no longer a mystery anymore. Shifting the focus onto my young and beautiful mother immediately answers all the questions one may have had in the first place. My mother Lucy never bothered to mention anything regarding the uncertain journey and greatest part of my life that entailed growth into womanhood that was yet to come. She always mentioned things like submission to the man and respect and care for everyone within the household as among the chief responsibilities of any great wife. Her lack of mentioning this unavoidable part of growing up is bewildering. However, from a critical angle, a fact emerges; she believed more in my inner strength than anyone ever will. Or more scaring is the thought that one can never tell people of things they do not know themselves, probably she herself was clueless regarding this phase in life for a young woman like myself.

Deeply seated and covered in meekness was the truth that formed the basis for my predicament. The truth, in this case, was that my mother was a simple woman. The kind of simplicity that puts the supposedly slay queens to shame. She valued simplicity, and it is safe to assume, she never told me anything regarding the complex life decisions that waylaid me for the simple fact that she did not know how to circumvent them herself. Yet here I was being bombarded by all kinds of pressure from all around. Pressure to dress a certain way and do things in a certain manner so as to fit in. There was pressure to dress up in trendy clothes and follow whatever was fashionable at the time. Fashion that was determined by pop stars and even when it was not appropriate, the young girls was to religiously follow blindly. That was not all; there was the hair styling decision that I was still clueless about. Apparently, a girl was to style her hair in a certain way to avoid mockery from other girls in school.

Life to me was like learning a new language without an instructor and a manual on the basics of the language. From the moment I began experiencing the joy and dismay of womanhood in the form of monthly menses, I was cast into the deep end of the pool of womanhood. Even things like applying makeup were foreign to me. Thankfully, we are in the digital age. The simplicity of my mother dictated that she never bothered with such things. Mascara and a glossy touch always sufficed for her for whatever occasion. But my adolescent face needed better to be at par with my colleagues. Oh my, the uncertainty! What product works best for my face, which is the best shade for me? Trial and error, laughter and complements were the true marks of whether what I was doing was okay or totally off.

Then there came the greatest challenge of them all. The part of the journey that things got thick and no YouTube tutorials could help anyone. There came the attraction to boys and their awkwardness. What was I supposed to do, how was I supposed to react when they smiled at me? What about when they wrote me little notes and put them in my books? For this part, nothing, absolutely nothing could have prepared me for what was to come. The heartbreaks and the fast beating of the heart when the heart decided it liked a certain boy in class. The shutting off of the brain when the said boy was within a few feet of me, and making me act weird in front of the whole class. Such are the moments of becoming a woman that have shaped me into the confident and bold lady I am today. Oh, how I would do anything to relive those awesome moments.

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