Pretty in Pink? 

I think I’m becoming prudish. Not about bums, breasts or bollocks but tattoos and all things pink and glittery. 

It all started with a small heart shaped tattoo right in the middle of daughter#1’s stomach. Two hearts entwined in shades of pink and glitter. It glistened as she flaunted, pranced and preened. Showing her wares to anyone who would look, or even those who didn’t want to. She was as proud as I was perturbed. 

Ok it wasn’t real and neither I nor a toothless needle waving hell’s angel put it there. Her best friend’s mum stuck on during a long hot gouter, when everyone wanted to be outside but couldn’t face the roasting July garden furnace. We were all caged beasts, stuck inside with a tiny fan to cool us. It wasn’t working so out came the macquillage.  

A box chock full of pinkness. The tattoo was only the beginning; next came the glitter make-up in rainbow coloured tubes, the stick on glitter earrings and the barbapapapink nail varnish. I was pinned down by a feeding baby and could but watch in horror as #1 carefully and gleefully followed instructions. Within half an hour she was transformed into a painted, tattooed, pinkified prancing wannabe beauty queen. Have you ever seen those awful child beauty queens in the US? Young girls made up by pushy mothers to represent some artificial ideal of beauty that completely misses the point of childhood. Horrid, yet there it was appearing in front of my eyes. 

Bringing up a girl child in France is an eye-opening experience of how and why French woman are obsessed with image. The obsession is passed from generation to generation. You will self-adorn, you will self-obsess goes the message.  

I have seen the world through the eyes of a young French girl and that world is not just pink, but also full of a strong body awareness that shouldn’t be there. Aged three #1 asked me if she had a fat tummy because her best friend said she was fat. Already the negative body image is developing. This is crazy. They may not understand the concept of ‘being fat’ but from listening to and learning from their mothers they are aware that this is something to avoid. I’ve just seen the descent into anorexia of a friend’s daughter. She went from being a slim beautiful young woman to an ugly skeleton within weeks. At 35kg she was hospitalised, still believing that she was fat. It’s sick that girls believe that controlling the size of their body is the only way to stay on top of things in an otherwise chaotic world.  

You may think that a small pink tattoo is harmless, but it’s just the start of #1’s entrainment in the art of French womanhood. At three she should be running around in the mud, riding her bike or splashing in the pool. I’m ticking the ‘strongly disagree’ box on this part of French parenting. 

Children should be children and understand that their beauty comes from just being themselves. In France it seems, that this is revolutionary thinking. On tattoos and macquillage I shall remain prudish. I’d rather see a naked, muddy bottom, especially in my corner of the Lotissement! 

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