Cussin

In the bathroom. My daughter was putting on foundation in the mirror. Her skin is perfect.

"Why do you wear foundation?" I asked. "At your age?"

"Because I've got skin like an old woman" she said "everybody teases me about it at school. I've got those things...that old men get when they drink ..."

"Thread veins?"

"Yeah, that. I've got tons of blemishes and I have to cover them up"

I looked at my face in the mirror. I had crinkly bags under my eyes. I pushed at my skin, it doesn't spring back into place as it would have a few years ago. Even a year ago.

I seemed to have aged enormously since starting The Underground Restaurant. In fact I haven't properly looked at myself for a while, being so busy. I've neglected any 'beauty routine'.

Next to me was my teen...her perfect heart shaped face...

I sit on the toilet and sigh: "So apart from your weight, your height, the little bump on your eyelid and your old ladies' skin...what else do people at school criticize about you? It seems, according to them, you are absolutely hideous"

"Look that's how it is. Everybody cusses everybody else." my daughter says patiently as if speaking to a retard.

"Do you?"

"Yeah. 'Course. Probably."

"You slag off other people's looks?"

"Well my friends and especially S."

"Why S?"

S. is particularly beautiful, tall and slim with almond-shaped eyes and great hair. She's been spotted by model agencies.

"Everybody has a go at S" snorts my teen "because she's so perfect".

"Does she get upset?"

"Yes, sometimes she cries"

"So you are all making each other feel bad? I mean you come home and cry too" I state.

My teen shrugs.

Cussing, that is, the art of putting each other down, does seem to be worse than it was in my youth. I wonder if it comes from 'freestyle rap battles'. It must be hard, though, for teenagers to build up any self-esteem when every imperfection is ruthlessly targeted. Or does it toughen them up?

Butters

"I'm butters" said my teen.

Now I know I'm biased but my teenager is the most beautiful girl in the world. Bar none. Actually I'm not biased, this is pure fact.

"You are gorgeous" I say soothingly.

"No I'm not. I'm fat. And I'm short".

There's no point lying. She is short. But she's not fat. Not yet anyway. She probably will be later on, just like me. To be honest, I don't think I'm fat, but other people do. I look at all the women we are told we are supposed to look like and think 'Where's the rest of you?'. They look like half people.

She talks about the teasing at school, because of her height.

"Basically the deal here is that you aren't average. You want to be average. There's such an emphasis on being average, but it's boring." I say

I try to think of someone short, not too great looking but with such personality you don't even notice. I hit upon...

"Look at Danny Devito! He's short but I don't think he's ever turned in a bad performance" I tell her brightly.

"But has he got a girlfriend?"

"Yeah. He's married and everything" I say

The teen thinks for a bit.

"I expect that's cos he's famous. I'm not famous. No one is ever going to like me. I've been single for two years."

"You are 15! Someone is going to like you. Of course they are!"

"No never. No one's ever going to like me. I'll be a virgin when I die"

This conversation was provoked by the fact that she liked a boy. He seemed to like her. In fact she started liking him because she thought he liked her.

She thought they were close. He would text 'I love you'. Even today, when 'I love you' and relentless hugging is common currency between friends (not the seldom uttered tight-lipped words that slipped out by mistake, of my youth), texting that phrase to the opposite sex means something.

My teen talked to me about this as we drove...

"I didn't know what was going on, so I took the plunge and texted him: 'Are you into me?'" Tears trickled down her downy cheeks. "He said 'No. We are just friends'."

I recognised this feeling so well...

"I really hate that. When blokes you fancy just want to be your friend. When they flirt and confuse you." I commiserated. "They are power tripping"

"I know" she sniffed.

"I mean my attitude, in the words of Jayne County, is: 'If you don't wanna fuck me, fuck off'" I joked.

"Me too."

We drove in silence, bonded in mutual misery.