– You can confide in me, I’m your mother! I’m listening… what’s he like?
– It’s her.
– Have you fallen in love with a girl?
– Yes and no.
– Well… you never cease to amaze me. And how long has this little love affair of yours been going on?
– A very long time.
– A month, two months?
– A few years. At first it was difficult between us, but now I can tell you that I love him.
– Aren’t you ashamed, my poor girl? You’re telling me this as if it were normal. Do you know how I feel? Like a slap in the face!
– Ashamed of what? But Mom, I’ve been trying to feel good about myself for years. I used to be so unhappy!
– You could have told me about this before, as the feeling was growing inside you. You don’t trust me anymore, my poor girl.
– But I trust you! You just don’t understand! What could I tell you? That I was nauseous every morning when I looked in the mirror? Now I think I’m beautiful, I smile at myself, I love myself!
– And what’s she like? Do I know her?
– That’s what I was going to ask you. How do I look?
– Are you talking about yourself or your girlfriend?
– There never was a girlfriend, except in your suspicious mind. It’s me I’m talking about, sort of, if you like, I’ve only just really got to know myself, and I find I’m an appreciable girl, a girl for whom I should have some regard, some respect.
– Now you discover that you exist? What were you thinking, my poor girl? I’ll have to take you to see a psychologist.
– But stop calling me a “poor girl”! In fact, I’m trying to explain to you that I’m no longer a “poor girl” as you call me: I’m a respectable, honorable person.
– You’re in the middle of a teenage crisis…
– Maybe so, Mom, but in the meantime, I’d like to share with you what I’ve come to understand. You know, I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching lately and I asked myself why I didn’t respect you, why I was often obnoxious to my friends, and I found that it was because I didn’t feel good about myself. I didn’t like myself, worse, I hated myself.
– So what if I do? Do you think I love myself?
– If you loved yourself a little more, you’d be happier and maybe you’d think of me as your daughter instead of a poor girl. It would be nice if you made up with yourself. We could laugh and joke like we used to. Just be happy.
– Excuse me, little girl. I must confess I was jealous of your youth. Seeing you grow up didn’t make me happy, on the contrary, it made me feel like I was getting old. Come into my arms and let’s make peace forever.
– Thanks Mum, I love you very much you know?
– Me too…
Sketch written for Graines de Paix by Emilie Salamin-Amar.
2006 Emilie Salamin-Amar of Editions Planète Lilou.
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