“Your hair is so long, why do you keep it up? You look better with it down...” he said as he takes my hair out of its bun and lets it fall down my back.
He removed my glasses and said the same, and then his hands proceed to touch my leg and he asks, “what is this?” 👠
“Well, the women in Nigeria don’t wear them.”
And I remember putting my hair back up and glasses back on, and saying, “I’m not Nigerian, I’m American. And you saw how I looked before you asked me to date you.”
He then says that he wasn’t trying to insult me, only telling me these things “to make me better” 🙄 (As you can imagine, we didn’t last long thank you, sweet baby Jesus! 🙏🏽 I broke up with him shortly after that)
But here’s the deal, the reason I was able to confidently respond back (besides the fact that I’m direct, maybe should’ve been a lawyer, and I can handle my own in a debate) is because I thought his critique rather odd...
Not because I wasn’t self-critical.
Not because I lived in a perfect bubble.
Not because I saw myself as beautiful.
But because to that day (and this one) I’ve never heard my father ever tell my mother—or any woman for that matter, “she would ‘look’ better if _____”.
Even when my mother had cancer, and lost all her hair. My father adored her. ————————————————————————
So many women have to heal from shit in their childhood from what their dad (or mom) said about their body, & beauty; and I’m lucky I don’t have to deal with any of that and much of that’s because of my amazing dad. 🖤
For never calling me out of my name.
For always remaining consistent & faithful.
For never leaving during difficult seasons.
For always seeing the best in me.
For never being too busy to spend time.
For always praying for me daily.
I could go on, bottom line: he’s the best and I love him forever and ever. I really think a great dad can be a heartbreak preventer, because when you know what to expect & the standard has been set—it’s incredibly hard to allow yourself to settle for anything less.