Is there anyone out there who can say they sailed through
grammar school unscathed? Anyone who can profess that they weren’t teased and
weren’t ashamed of how they looked? Anyone, girls in particular, who didn’t
identify with some sort of body image? Perhaps there are a few, but for the
rest of us memories of those critical years of development probably sting on
some level. I want so badly for Izzy to grow through those years with a
positive outlook on who she is and what she can accomplish. And it starts now.
Yes she’s two years old, but she can understand what I say to her, about her
and about myself. So I’m starting now.
I like to wear makeup. I think I look better with it on. But
lately I’ve been concerned about dressing up my face in front of Izzy. She
asked what I was doing and I just stared back at her. I didn’t want to say I
was making my face look pretty because that would mean that I think I’m not
pretty without make up. So I told her I was making my eyelashes darker. Then
she asked if she could put some on. I paused again, not because I would ever
let my two year wield the mascara wand, but because my gut reaction was your
lashes are beautiful and you don’t need it, quickly followed by you’re a child
only adults wear makeup. So how do I explain that some people need to enhance
how they look? Again, I know she’s two and she doesn’t need to know everything
now, but how I talk about myself starts to influence her now. That day I gave
her some chapstick to “protect her lips from the cold” and she was happy. And
now I put makeup on when she’s not around.
After I got my face ready to, err, face the world, it was
time to get dressed. Squeezing my post pregnancy body into my pre pregnancy
clothes is an embarrassing Olympic sport. It’s a game to see how many outfits I
can get in and out of in the small amount of time I have before one kids crying
and the other kid is bored. Exasperated sighs and grumpy “huffs” filled the air.
I’m not sure why three months after having by second child I expect my clothes
to zip or button or mask my squishy spots. So there I was glaring at my
reflection in frustration while my sweet little girl looked on. “Momma OK?” she
whispered. Again it dawned on me. Here I am putting myself down in front of my
daughter. I should have been celebrating that not only can I pull my pants over
my thighs, but my thighs look pretty good. My middle may not be back to normal
yet, but I just had a baby! My middle may be getting an extra big hug by
clothes because there was a baby in there for 9 months. And carrying around my
new double D’s doesn’t help my back any, but hey, I didn’t even have to have
surgery to get a double cup increase. I
know I need to work on my perspective some, but I also need to watch what I say
about myself. It really hit home the next time Izzy was getting dressed. I
picked out adorable little leggings and as she pushed her little feet through
and tugged on the pants she started grunting just like mommy when mommy gets
dressed. Ouch.
Those are just two examples that I’ve witnessed where Izzy
is learning, quicker than I expected, what people think about themselves. And here’s
how I know it effects how she’ll think about herself. Ok I love my mom. I have
to say that whenever I say something about her that could be perceived as
negative. But here it goes for honesty’s sake. My mom is a beautiful woman. She’s
nearing 60 and she has a gorgeous smile and stunning cheekbones. Seriously,
women in Hollywood go under the knife to have the definition that she does. But
I’ve never heard her say a nice thing about herself. She set a fantastic
example of going to the track to sweat it out when she wanted to lose a few. In
fact, she’s the reason I started running. But she didn’t applaud her own
efforts or embrace the beauty that I knew she had. To this day, the first thing I look at in any
picture of myself is my arms. I think they’re big and flabby, just like my mom
always said about her own arms. She NEVER said anything negative to me. Never
pointed out any trouble areas. So why do I look at my body for the same issues
that she “had.” Let me point out that my mom didn’t have these issues either.
Maybe it has something to do with feeling like I look like my mom, so anything
she said negative about herself must also be true of me?
Kristin
Armstrong, author of Mile Markers: The 26.2 Most Important Reasons Why
Women Run, wrote about body image and
her daughters and her efforts to celebrate her own body for the sake of her daughters.
I didn’t think much about it until I saw my little Izzy inquisitively looking
on as I piled on the eye makeup, or when I confused her with my struggle to
find clothes that fit. I started thinking about it more and noticed how much of
what my mom said about herself is what I feel about myself. I know she’s only
two, but why not start now? Why not say positive things about myself in front
of her. Why not focus on all the wonderful personality traits that make us who
we are instead of what size the label in my pre preggo jeans says? I don’t try
to sweat the small stuff, but when it comes to something as fragile as a little
girls self-esteem I sure will do whatever it takes.
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