This ad, produced about 8 years ago for baby food brand Blédina by director Tony Kay, fills me with tears even though I have no weebs of my own. It is probably the use of that song (cheap shot) and all those naked close-ups of doubt, surprise, horror and pensiveness.
And then that sympathetic voice glides in: "C'est compliqué d'être mère..." and some unfamiliar chord inside me rises to an insane crescendo: Oh, it is! It so is!
A friend recently observed that it's normal for me to be having all these feelings because "you're what now, Angela? 27, 28? That's the time when women, you know..." and he grinned and made this tick-tick-tick motion with his hands that filled me with righteous rage - or maybe just a chilled moodiness.
He is probably right. But if I can sympathise with mothers without actually being one right at this very minute, that's cool too. I have one already, and it suffices to hear the broken heart in her voice when we're talking about me being far, or not being married, or rugs, or school loans, or whatever-else-have-you, to know I'm not ready for that kind of pain.
He is probably right. But if I can sympathise with mothers without actually being one right at this very minute, that's cool too. I have one already, and it suffices to hear the broken heart in her voice when we're talking about me being far, or not being married, or rugs, or school loans, or whatever-else-have-you, to know I'm not ready for that kind of pain.
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