19th May 2012
The upcoming adaptation on Snow White starring Charlize Theron and Kirsten Stewart reminds me of a painful memory.
**********
During preschool, the teachers took it upon themselves to involve the kids in a productions that involved songs and dance. It was to be presented at the square in the middle where all the classrooms surrounded. In other words, it was going to be legendary.
The story theme that year, was Snow White and the seven dwarfs.
At that point of my life, for some inexplicable reason ( although I imagine if I dug hard enough I would find it), I was quite preoccupied with how my hair looked. My most precious belonging was that of a plastic coconut tree hairpin, of which it was reserved for very special occasions. On the day that they would pick Snow White, I carefully pinned up half of my fringe for the occasion. Half because, some of the fringe would have to fall over my right eye for the right amount of mysterious pretty. (don't judge me, I must have seen it on someone, somewhere)
I looked at the mirror.
I adjusted the pin again and looked at myself again. The tree was not in the right angle to frame my face.
I tried again.
And again.
In fact, I took so long, my mother came in to check on me.
She observed me for a minute and exasperatedly whipped the hairpin from my hand and pinned it on top of my head.
I looked into the mirror.
My fringe, which I had carefully combed (with water to make sure that there were no frizzy ends), now had loops of hair sticking out of my head from the flippant handling. At that tender age, it was a DISASTER.
Needless to say, I started bawling. My mother, looking slightly sheepish, disregarded my obsession and whisked me off to take the school van.
**********
I didn't get the Snow White part.
To put it into perspective, the girl who got the part was a cherubic fair lass with perfect teeth and rosy lips. Her hair was a perfect bowl cut which framed her pretty face. Me? I was then skinny and dark with a missing front tooth. And of course, bad hair.
Did I blame my mother?
Curiously that is one part of my memory that I don't remember. What I do remember however, was that on the big day of the play, I had skipped away "nonchalantly" while it played out.
I do wonder what kind of mother I would be.
Although recounting the memory makes me feel downright ridiculous, (I mean, pinning up HALF OF YOUR FRINGE, somebody please kill me?) I wonder if it was tough love? Or pure flippancy? During my mother's time, there was probably no such thing as reading and understanding your child's psyche textbooks that are flooding the digital bookstores today, readily available on your latest ipad.
They had so much to take care of; food on the table, difficult jobs, their inadequate salary, mothers, mother in laws, 6am wet markets marketing, school fees, bills. Our fragile egos were probably the last
The upcoming adaptation on Snow White starring Charlize Theron and Kirsten Stewart reminds me of a painful memory.
**********
During preschool, the teachers took it upon themselves to involve the kids in a productions that involved songs and dance. It was to be presented at the square in the middle where all the classrooms surrounded. In other words, it was going to be legendary.
The story theme that year, was Snow White and the seven dwarfs.
At that point of my life, for some inexplicable reason ( although I imagine if I dug hard enough I would find it), I was quite preoccupied with how my hair looked. My most precious belonging was that of a plastic coconut tree hairpin, of which it was reserved for very special occasions. On the day that they would pick Snow White, I carefully pinned up half of my fringe for the occasion. Half because, some of the fringe would have to fall over my right eye for the right amount of mysterious pretty. (don't judge me, I must have seen it on someone, somewhere)
I looked at the mirror.
I adjusted the pin again and looked at myself again. The tree was not in the right angle to frame my face.
I tried again.
And again.
In fact, I took so long, my mother came in to check on me.
She observed me for a minute and exasperatedly whipped the hairpin from my hand and pinned it on top of my head.
I looked into the mirror.
My fringe, which I had carefully combed (with water to make sure that there were no frizzy ends), now had loops of hair sticking out of my head from the flippant handling. At that tender age, it was a DISASTER.
Needless to say, I started bawling. My mother, looking slightly sheepish, disregarded my obsession and whisked me off to take the school van.
**********
I didn't get the Snow White part.
To put it into perspective, the girl who got the part was a cherubic fair lass with perfect teeth and rosy lips. Her hair was a perfect bowl cut which framed her pretty face. Me? I was then skinny and dark with a missing front tooth. And of course, bad hair.
Did I blame my mother?
Curiously that is one part of my memory that I don't remember. What I do remember however, was that on the big day of the play, I had skipped away "nonchalantly" while it played out.
I do wonder what kind of mother I would be.
Although recounting the memory makes me feel downright ridiculous, (I mean, pinning up HALF OF YOUR FRINGE, somebody please kill me?) I wonder if it was tough love? Or pure flippancy? During my mother's time, there was probably no such thing as reading and understanding your child's psyche textbooks that are flooding the digital bookstores today, readily available on your latest ipad.
They had so much to take care of; food on the table, difficult jobs, their inadequate salary, mothers, mother in laws, 6am wet markets marketing, school fees, bills. Our fragile egos were probably the last
