Oh, what a pity
Mother never taught me the rule of being pretty.
I don’t know the rules of makeup,
I don’t know how to tie a bow ribbon.
I don’t have the pretty purses or skirts,
Nor the glasses, nor the shiny buttons.

Oh, what a pity—
What will I give to my daughter?
I have no secrets to be pretty,
No tricks with hair, no perfect bow ribbons.

Oh, what a pity—
Will she look down on me,
The way I look to momma?
She didn’t teach me to be pretty;
She taught me to be smart.

So what if I don’t know how to tie a bow ribbon?
I still know how to knot my laces.
So what if I don’t know how to curl my hair?
I still know how to make ponytails.
So what if I don’t know how to make different cuisines?
I still know how to cook for myself.

Not everything needs to be passed down;
Some things need to be acquired.
I’ll pass on my experiences to her,
And we’ll learn together on this journey.
No one knows everything,
But everyone knows something.

I’ll give her what she needs,
And teach her to acquire the rest.
As She’ll grow into a woman someday.

Oh, what a pity—
Is it everything to just be pretty?
I’ll teach her how to be her own hero,
To be her own model,
To be whatever she wants.

Being pretty, being smart,
Being casually funny,
Feeling sad, crying,
Learning, lying...
I’ll teach her all the colors of the spectrum,
To let her find her own color.

But first, I’ll find mine.
And surely, she’ll find hers too—
After all, She'd my daughter.

"Oh, what a pity"
Is something she’ll never have to say.
Because being pretty
Is not as important as she’ll one day guess.



Wrote on 27/01/25