Failing our daughters

We were at our neighborhood pool yesterday when I overheard a cute 16-yr-old-ish girl talking to the lifeguard, another 16-yr-old-ish girl. The first girl was lamenting her extra fat and laid out her plan: a crazy combo of fad diet and strict exercise regimen, consisting of 1.5 hours of cardio a day. Oh, and trips to the tanning bed because being tan makes her stomach look better.

Now, let me say that this girl, who is pretty and blonde, looks exactly how I would have killed to look when I was 16. I didn't see any fat on her. And I thought, where is her mother in all this? Aside from stepping in to avoid the SKIN CANCER risks associated with going to a tanning bed, is her mother not telling her she's beautiful? Is she hanging around with people who don't make her feel better about herself, and bring her down? Maybe her mother is involved, is telling her she's beautiful, and is warning her to stay away from the tanning beds. I don't know. But for me, it was a wake up call to make sure I'm saying the right things around my kids so that they know they're perfect, and that I'm comfortable with myself.

Which isn't to say I am. I can't remember a time since puberty I was happy with my body. I had curves early, and I like to eat, so that's a difficult combination for a teenager. I wasn't athletic, and the popular clothes for the time didn't fit me correctly, so I never looked the way I wanted. Add in a tall, blonde, volleyball-playing best friend, and well....I hated the way I looked. (Note: not my BFF's fault-- she never made me feel badly about myself. It was all in my head.) I gained 20 lbs my freshman year of college, and that did NOT help. Looking back, I was beautiful. I was never thin because of the aforementioned curves, but I wasn't baby-ravaged either! I could have chosen my wardrobe better. I could have exercised more routinely. I could have just dealt with it! The boys never seemed to mind too much, and I had plenty of amazing friends. But always, in the back of my mind, my body wasn't good enough.

And that brings me to my mother. My mother's mother, my Bubba, had some weird ideas about weight and fat people. She made my mother feel terrible about her own body. When my mom was dying from cancer, it made her stomach swell, and I'm sure my mother was dealing with body issues at the very end of her life; how could she not? She'd been programmed. My mother did her best to tell me how beautiful I was, how I should show off my body (appropriately. This was the time of grunge-- she would have settled for a tucked-in shirt). (God, I miss grunge.) I do remember one time, when I was back living at home when Mom was sick, and the stress of her illness, combined with a desk job, and the comfort of being with a boyfriend (now husband) who loved me, was contributing to some weight gain. She said something about noticing, and I responded with some barb about going to fix dinner, if I could fit through the door. She started to cry and apologized profusely-- she'd just done to me what her mother did to her, what she swore she'd never do. That stuck with me.

In a million years, I didn't think I'd have any daughters, not to mention TWO daughters. Bayla loves to eat, and she's a solid little girl. She's perfectly average percentile-wise. But I noticed that I was saying stuff like, "Look at that Buddha belly." She doesn't yet know who Buddha is. Heck, she doesn't even know what her belly is. But I realized that it's a negative comment for anyone other than a baby. And so it's going to stop.

And you know what else is going to stop? My self-deprecating comments about my own body and clothes. I'm not the heaviest I've ever been, but these kids have done a NUMBER on my figure. I have a permanent pooch where a cute belly had been before. My boobs are not where they used to be. But I successfully carried 3 children, and I have a husband who loves me even more for my pooch and stomach-boobs.

Bayla and Harper will most likely have different body types. Already I can tell that Harper is longer, leaner, more coordinated. It is 100% my responsibility to make these girls feel beautiful. Whether they believe me or not is up to them-- I didn't believe my mother. But I'm going to do my damnedest to help them love themselves. And also, choose the right clothing styles for their bodies. But they have to love and respect themselves. And I will NOT have any sexting to be accepted.

And what about Brady? Boys have it rough too. He'll be skinny his whole life, like his Daddy. I'm going to try to help him love his skinny little self, help him see the benefit of avoiding a pot belly in middle age. And I'm going to teach him that women come in all shapes and sizes, and we're all beautiful, all worthy of love. And that smart, well-read women are more interesting than shallow beauties.

They all have to realize that they should strive to be healthy, not stick-thin or hungry. HEALTHY, in mind, body, spirit. Teaching them this is my most important job. Second most important job: bringing back grunge. I think I still have a flannel shirt or 2 somewhere.