She always found fault with me. Probably since birth. My eyes were too small, hair too course and wavy, voice too loud. Though I tried for years only to please her, I feel that I never quite succeeded. Sure, we had our moments, times when people would look at our mother-daughter duo and say they wished they had the same. But those were few and far between, and sometimes fake. After that party or picnic, we might argue in the car about the television shows I watched or the way I read late into the night. Bad for your eyes, she said. Bad for your attitude.
I realized I could never win, so eventually I stopped trying.
That's when I started being happy.
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