My childhood insecurities make me favour my daughter over my son

Iwas glad our children finished university before Covid so we could celebrate their graduations properly, though last year our daughter didn’t have a ceremony for her Masters. Instead, we had a family do in our garden, hired the robes and a photographer and had a great time. So I thought, but when I framed the photos recently and gave one to my son, we had a huge row. He said that I’d gone over the top, as usual, when it came to his sister, and barely give his achievements a second glance.

I claimed I treat them exactly the same, but I know I give her more in every way, and I can’t admit to him that I want her to have the life I didn’t. I’m pathetically proud of her looks, her social life and her confidence. Growing up was torture for me. I wasn’t bullied for wearing glasses or being fat because neither of those things applied. I was just dull and awkward, dumpy and boring; no one particularly picked on me. No one wanted me as a friend, either.

I’m still so ordinary. Ordinary job, ordinary husband, ordinary middleclass life. I look at my plain, ageing face in the mirror and feel such resentment that I never shone, apart from maybe on my wedding day. When I see the girls in my class now as entitled, confident and polished as they were as teenagers, it sticks in my throat. I’m not one of those people who peaked at school, or peaked afterwards – I’ve never peaked at all.

Being a mum gave me confidence for the first time. My son was such an easy, uncomplicated, loving little boy and I adored him. Then our daughter was born and, as she grew up, I couldn’t believe her ease in her looks, her social skills and everything else.

As a teenager, she was simply living the dream life I’d longed for, and I made that even easier for her, spending money on her hair and clothes, and on relevant tutors in a way I never did for our son.

In my defence, he seemed perfectly happy, loved sport – his dad got involved in that in a big way – worked hard for excellent exam results, and only ever thought about clothes when he discovered girls. When he accused me of preferring his sister, my husband was horrified and said I spent more time with our daughter because we liked doing girly things together, but my son said there was more to it than that and I always put her first. I said he was a natural high achiever and his sister needed more support, but he wasn’t falling for that – he knows that I favour her, but I can’t explain why in case he despises me even more.

I explained to my husband what a horrible time I had growing up and why it means so much to me that my daughter’s experience is completely different, and he was genuinely horrified at how shallow I sounded. He said everyone has bad moments as a teenager, but I didn’t have moments; I had years.

I think it’s still harder for women to succeed than men, so everything I do for our daughter just puts her at level pegging with her brother, but I don’t know how to sort things with him without a reasonable explanation, and I can’t invent one that wouldn’t hurt him. I am really proud of him but I never said it enough, and now I can’t without him feeling I don’t mean it.

I look at my plain, ageing face and feel such resentment that I never shone... apart from maybe on my wedding day