Highlights or no? When she wants the cold, hard truth, only one person does the job

I firmly believe that if you have been blessed with a daughter, you’re skilled in being able to handle brutal, unvarnished truths. Because a daughter will be your beacon of honesty, especially when you would prefer not to have a beacon of honesty.

A daughter’s specialty areas seem to be savage assessments about your appearance and maternal behavior seen as cringe.

Wait, saying cringe might be cringe now. I should really consult with my daughter. I’ll put that on my list of things to ask her over Thanksgiving.

Topping that list, just in case you’re curious, is: Why Gen Z has decided no show/ankle socks are now outdated and for “old people.”

Apparently, thick, slouchy crew socks are in. Umm, OK not a bad sock choice in November but say hello to sweaty, soggy socks once the temperature climbs. Which, by the way, can lead to a whole host of foot-related issues.

There’s something else to put on my list: a frank discussion about foot health.

Now, in my role over 24 years as the mother of a daughter, I can share that the truth bombs a daughter drops have a way of staying lodged in the brain.

When I go shopping for pants, I hear one voice in my head. It’s my daughter at 13 saying, “skinny jeans don’t make anyone look skinny.”

I can’t even condemn my daughter for her unsolicited hot takes on my appearance. I did the same thing to my mother.

I once greeted her after she had just had her hair “done” by our neighbor with the comment: “You look like a tie-dyed skunk.”

This was in the early ’70s, when every mom had a shag haircut and used a crochet hook to pull her hair through what looked like a bathing cap with holes in it, then dumped a bucket of bleach on her head.

The end result, if you were lucky, was tie-dyed skunk. The end result for me was being grounded.

I can’t believe I’m even going to confess this, but my daughter’s critiques can be exceedingly beneficial. One mom at my daughter’s middle school had horrible hair. I’m talking tie-dyed skunk would have been a major upgrade.

One day at school pick up, I was behind her in the line and noticed she had a “boy mom” sticker on the back of her car and, well, that explained everything. A daughter would have set that mom straight a long time ago about her hairstyle.

This all means that when my daughter comes home for Thanksgiving, I’m ready for her. I’ve learned to put her candid assessments to work. Besides the questions I have for her on that previously mentioned list, I also have some wardrobe choices for her to go over.

Then I plan to move on to my hair. I’m weaning off highlights so I’m fascinated to get her reaction when she’s seen it up close. (To date, neither my husband nor my son has noticed my hair color has changed.)

I’m almost positive that within five minutes of being picked up from the airport, my daughter will have a dissertation on the subject. I’m bracing for her response, which I’m hoping doesn’t start with, “Well, if your aim was to look older, goal achieved.”

I’ll let you know how it goes. Something tells me I might be back to highlighting my hair.

Reach Sherry Kuehl at snarkyinthesuburbs@gmail.com, on Facebook at Snarky in the Suburbs @snarkynsuburbs, on Instagram @snarky.in.the.suburbs, and on TikTok @snarkyinthesuburbs and snarkyinthesuburbs.com.