I’m bitterly jealous of my own 14-year-old daughter’s beauty… I’ve looked at getting filler in my wonky nose to match up
MUM-of-three Alice Macintyre, 41, of Tunbridge Wells, Kent, confesses that she envies her daughter’s looks.
And the writer, married to architect Chris, 40, says many mums feel the same but won’t admit it . . .
TOPPING up my lipstick, I step back, look in the mirror and grin.
As an exhausted mum of three and busy writer, I don’t often look glamorous.
But after splashing out £150 at the hair salon on a cut-and-colour, and putting on a new £110 figure-hugging dress for a party, I feel pretty good.
That is until my daughter, Charlotte, 14, glides down the stairs, long blonde hair flowing behind her.
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Long-limbed and wrinkle-free, she looks fantastic and my heart sinks. I love her so much, so I’m ashamed of what I’m about to say: I am jealous of her.
Seeing her makes me feel old, wrinkly and past it.
But I know that I’m far from alone in tying beauty so closely with youth.
‘Next to her, I feel bland, boring and frumpy’
Hollywood star Brooke Shields, now 59, who was famed for her stunning looks in the Eighties, this week lamented being seen as “a disappointment” now that she is older.
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“I have watched people get affronted that I dare to be [nearly] 60,” the actress said.
It is a feeling actress Pamela Anderson, 57, seems to share.
The former Baywatch “babe” has embraced a make-up-free look, saying she is now done with “chasing youth”.
These celebrities’ honesty resonates with me.
Ageing is normal but my daughter’s easy beauty makes me feel down — and I know I’ll be condemned for admitting that I’m jealous of my own child.
My envy took me by surprise — with Charlotte going from tomboy to elegant beauty just three years ago.
It’s a feeling that kicks me in the gut like nothing else.
Standing next to her, I feel bland, boring and frumpy.
My comparison envy is so bad that I have even considered getting filler to fix my wonky nose, and braces to adjust my uneven teeth.
I was 28 when I gave birth to Charlotte — who has a brother, Oscar, nine, and sister, Imogen, two.
She arrived in October, 2010, after 18 hours labour, weighing 8lb 11oz, and was perfect. Chris and I, who met at school and have been together since we were 18, were instantly smitten with her.
Holding her for the first time, I swelled with love and pride — and that feeling has never gone away.
I know I’ll be condemned for admitting that I’m jealous of my own child
In primary school, Charlotte was always surrounded by a group of friends and I admired her strong will and independent spirit.
It was in stark contrast to my school days, when I studied hard and was a bit of a nerd.
At 5ft, I was the shortest girl in class and I was stocky, too.
I could never get trousers that fitted — something I hated, especially as a teen. I was called names like shorty and stumpy.
Elegance has never come easily to me and when I was Charlotte’s age I couldn’t apply make-up — I would end up looking like a clown.
In the past two years, Charlotte has been transformed, shooting up in height, gaining confidence and growing into her looks.
I yearn for her gorgeous skin, straight teeth and crease-free eyes. But most of all I want to have her sense of self-worth and confidence.
There are some days when I catch a glimpse of her watching TV, or just laughing at the dinner table, and I am instantly floored by my rollercoaster of emotions.
In comparison, I feel like a dumpy old maid who has lost her glow, though my husband always tells me I am gorgeous and I am getting even lovelier with age – like a fine wine.
Charlotte is spectacular but as she flourishes and grows ever more beautiful, I get older.
And with every wrinkle and every grey hair, a knot of jealousy forms in my stomach.
Yes, I am envious of just how talented, lovely and popular my daughter has become.
Yes, I am envious of just how talented, lovely and popular my daughter has become
When she started at secondary school, she went from tomboy to model practically overnight.
It was an effortless transformation.
She is already three inches taller than me and looks incredible after just ten minutes of doing her hair and make-up.
But she’s not arrogant — it’s entirely my issue. The jolt of envy I got the day I realised my sports-mad tomboy had been replaced by an elegant gazelle with flowing hair, perfectly manicured nails and expertly applied make-up was terrifying.
Now, looking at her beautiful face, then looking at mine in the mirror, I feel used up.
It is particularly bad as I get older and all the stresses and strains of parenthood take their toll.
Whereas she has her whole life ahead of her, with so many fun experiences to come, I am faced with the mid-life slump and menopause.
I hadn’t confessed until a few months ago how I feel to Charlotte, but when I did, she reassured me I was beautiful.
‘Mother-daughter jealousy is a taboo’
She’s very kind, but she is wrong — I’m not, and it’s not just self-pity.
Part of it is age creeping up, and the perimenopause approaching, but I don’t look like I did in my twenties.
Charlotte has her father’s height, smile-ready teeth, lush hair and spot-free skin, whereas I have spent much of my life feeling little more than average.
I am not ugly but am far from glamorous.
Phrases like “head-turner”, “model-like” or “drop-dead gorgeous” are not ones that anyone would use to describe me.
But they are compliments people direct at my daughter.
Charlotte is oblivious to her effortless beauty.
When I was at school, I was jealous of girls like her. They seemed to have the world at their feet.
I know how silly this sounds, and that a grown woman being jealous of any 14-year-old girl is crazy.
The curse of mother-daughter jealousy is a taboo topic, though, which no mum wants to be open about
But being envious of my own daughter is even worse. I feel terrible.
When I try raising all this with other mums — seeking their reassurance that my insecurities are normal — I either get appalled looks or am told my behaviour is toxic negativity.
But there are a few who privately admit that they feel the same about their own daughters, so I don’t think it’s that uncommon.
The curse of mother-daughter jealousy is a taboo topic, though, which no mum wants to be open about.
Personally, I believe it is normal and, in a way, opening up about my insecurities has been helpful.
It has made me realise that I am grappling with the normal fears of ageing.
Other mums need to be more open about this.
One positive is that now, when Charlotte borrows my lipstick, or a shirt, I glow with pride.
It is as though she has given my choice the seal of youthful approval.
She’s always complimenting me and I feel amazing when she does.
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It’s the teen tick of approval and it makes me feel better.
And yet, my jealousy remains.
