I used to love playing dress up as a little girl. I saw my mother’s closet as a magical dimension of the world, a place filled with beautiful clothes. On me, her blouses became summer dresses, and her dresses became ball gowns. Her delicate silk scarves became belts for me to tie around my waist. I would even put on her high heels and have a catwalk around the house. I spent countless hours staring at myself in the mirror, secretly wishing that one day, I would inherit everything from my mother’s closet.

This obsession of mine stemmed from the fascination over my mother’s beauty. Through my eyes, her face was a masterpiece. Her eyebrows were always drawn on perfectly like every defined stroke in a painting. Her eye makeup enhanced her dark brown eyes like the vibrant colors on a color pallet. Her cheeks flushed a little whenever she smiled like a newly blossomed flower on a blank canvas. In the same way that a painter’s signature marked his finished artwork, my mother’s red lips marked her finished look.

As I grow older, I have come to realize that my personality is very similar to my mom’s personality. At first, she may seem conservative but she actually loves a good laugh. I know that many people consider me a serious person, but I actually love laughing and joking around. My mother and I especially see eye to eye on life values. We agree on topics such as staying true to oneself, priorities in life, the importance of family and friends, the idea of love, the key to success, the list goes on and on.

Many people tell me that I’m mature for my age and that I have a very distinct character. This is a characteristic that I also take from my mom. When she was nineteen, she immigrated to the United States from Vietnam. Once she arrived in the U.S., she immediately started working and looking for a better education. She was determined to get her parents and seven other siblings to the U.S. as soon as possible. For that reason, my mom could not really enjoy her youth and freedom as a teenager. In a way, she was forced to grow up and become an adult but she tells me it was completely worth the sacrifice. I, on the other hand, was never really forced to “grow up”. I choose to be more mature because I know other people around me would take me more seriously and realize that I stand out among the teenagers in my generation.

My mother inspires me to do everything with purpose. I often find myself basing decisions off of what I think my mother would do if she was in my situation. I know that everything I do now as a teenager will affect me as an adult. I stay above the influences that my generation of youth often succumbs to. I rise above it because I know I would only be wasting my time in activities that would not contribute to the potential success of my future. My parent’s approval is very important to me because I want them to be proud of me. I am a reflection of their parenting and discipline so I know that I have to present myself in a composed manner wherever I go.

Being as naive as I was as a child, I’m glad I always wanted to dress up in my mother’s clothes. This was the start to my genuine appreciation for my mother. Beyond her fashion taste and beauty, my mother’s individuality inspires me the most. Although I don’t dress up in my mother’s clothes anymore, I will always admire the personality that lies within her.