As I said in the other thread, my mom to me to a makeup artist when I was 13 or so, and she taught me the basics of how to use makeup - application, blending, a lesson on “my colors” (this was back when finding out what “Season” you are was a big thing.) After that, I was free to experiment, look to magazines and to my friends for further refinement and finding out what my personal expression would be. I’d hate to blame the makeup lady for my Robert Smith phase - she did NOT teach me that baby powder made a great facial powder or that fire engine red lipstick was my best color!
I had the book “What’s Happening To My Body” from a young age - certainly younger than pubescence. As a toddler, my favorite book was “A Child Is Born”, with all the gorgeous in utero photographs and pictures of childbirth. So the mechanics of where babies come from was never a mystery. We never had The Talk - whenever I’d have a question, it would be answered, so there was no need. Our school covered the basics of menstruation and how to put on a pad, but it was all old hat for me by the time they got to it. When I started getting my period, I just took one of her pads and put it on and when I was done in the bathroom, I told her I got my period. She got all weepy and called my grandmother, of course. :smack:
I don’t remember being taught how to brush my teeth or wash/condition my hair, but since my son and I lived with her until he was 5, I know she did these things, 'cause she showed me how to teach them to him*. I do remember being admonished - a lot - to brush my hair starting at the bottom, 'cause I was often too impatient and would tackle snarls from the top, which only made them worse. Deodorant was something that was just bought when it was time, with a not-so-subtle, “kid, it’s time to use the stink stick everyday.” I think I got to pick out my own brand and scent. Same for a bra - when I got to about her size (AA), we went bra shopping together and she had me measured by the saleslady and the whole bit.
She taught me how to shave, at my request. She did spend some time telling me I really didn’t have to, it was a pain in the ass and I’d be sorry I ever started, but in the end, she let me do it. She lathered up a bar of Dial soap and did her own legs while I watched, then watched me do mine the first time, offering some tips (“Slow down! It’s not a race!”) and a styptic pencil when that didn’t work.
I discovered things like shaving cream and moisturizer from Seventeen magazine, I think.
As a teenager, when hygiene became an area of rebellion, she’d be very blunt: “Kid, you stink.” or “Whew! When was the last time you brushed your teeth?” Kind but certain embarrassment was the tool here.
My dads didn’t teach me any of this stuff, it was all Mom. Dad 1 was good for current events, history and politics and Dad 2 was good for father/daughter dances, algebra and trig.
*The one thing neither of us knew to teach him was the post-pee shake. I had no idea men need to shake the last drop or two of urine out of the urethra when done - poor thing had a really irritated penis for a while! Hazards of being a single mother.