The joy was short-lived.
It was an ordinary day when I looked in the mirror and almost didn't recognize myself. A tired face, gray hair tied in a careless bun, skin without shine. Where has the woman I used to be gone? I used to always find time for myself, take care of my appearance, feel attractive.
But life, responsibilities, family – all of that made me stop thinking about myself.
That day I decided it was time for a change. I went to the hairdresser, and then to the beautician. I got a new hairstyle, refreshed my face color. After years I felt like I was doing something just for myself. When I looked at my reflection after these changes, I felt lighter, younger, as if I was returning to my old self.
But the joy was short-lived. When I got home, the family's reaction was far from what I expected. My husband looked at me with a raised eyebrow.
– New haircut? How much did it cost? – he asked coldly.
My daughter, who came with her grandchildren, added her own:
– Mom, seriously? Beautician? What do you need that for? You're old now.
My son, who was sitting on the couch, laughed to himself.
– Or maybe you're getting ready for some dates?
I felt the smile disappear from my face.
– It's not about dates, it's not about anyone else – I replied calmly. – It's about me. I want to feel good in my own skin. Is that really so strange?
– Mom, you have everything you need – the daughter replied, crossing her arms. – Why spend money on things like that when you could spend it on something more meaningful?
Sensible. Those words hit me like a blow. Were my needs so insignificant that they didn't deserve attention? For years I had sacrificed myself for my family. I had put my own dreams, my own desires aside so that my children could have a better life. And now, when I had finally done something for myself, all I heard was criticism.
The atmosphere at home was tense for the next few days. Every time I went to the hairdresser or beautician, it provoked more comments. My husband complained that it was an unnecessary expense. The children suggested that I was trying to „pretend to be younger”. But I knew one thing – I couldn't go back to my old life where I was just a background.
One day, during dinner, the conversation turned again to my „excesses”.
– Mom, you really should stop. At this age, it's about being healthy, not looking like a model, – said the daughter.
I couldn't take it.
– And is health only physical? – I asked, looking at her firmly. – Doesn't health also mean how I feel inside? Do you really think that a woman over sixty should just sit at home, cook, and watch TV? Don't I have the right to a normal life, to feel that I'm still important?
There was silence. No one answered. My words hung in the air like a heavy cloud. After a while, my husband got up and went into the room, and the children silently began to clear the table.
That evening I thought about what I had said for a long time. I knew that my needs were not their priority, but for me they were everything. I understood that if I did not fight for my right to be happy, no one would do it for me.
Since then, I have stopped explaining every visit to the hairdresser or beautician. I have stopped asking for permission to be myself. My family may not understand it, but I know one thing – I deserve a normal life. And I have the right to take care of myself, regardless of what others think. Because no one knows my needs better than I do.
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