Do I Look Skinny, Mommy?
It happened. Something I was hoping and praying would never come; but deep down felt was only inevitable, knowing the type of world we live in and how disappointing it is sometimes. My little girl, standing in our bedroom in the cute new costume I bought her, looked up at me with her big beautiful eyes and asked “Mommy, do I look skinny?” Whaaaaaaat?? My palms got all sweaty and I blinked back the tears that immediately sprung to my eyes. How did this happen? The little girl standing in front of me is only seven years old. When did she learn what skinny even is?? I immediately felt the full force of the dreaded mom guilt drop into my chest like a ton of bricks. Was this my fault? I know that I don’t exactly have the highest self-confidence – quite the opposite in all honesty. I thought back to the countless times I have crash dieted, looked longingly at skinny actresses in movies or cried before dressing up for a night out while my husband held me and assured me that I was not fat. I was not gross. I was beautiful. (That poor man has heard me throw far too many vile insults at myself about anything from my eyebrows, to my teeth… to my somewhat hairy toes - and every inch in between). I thought of the times as a teenager, when I used to stick my finger down my throat after eating too much, sitting on the bathroom floor ashamed of myself and my body. I remember my parents finding out and I can still clearly picture the confused looks they had on their faces, how much they wanted to help me see the beauty they saw in me. I remember telling my mom that I hated myself, and thinking about it now, I realise how hearing those words must have shattered her heart. I have never, ever felt satisfied with the way I look, not when I was “skinny” and tanned about to walk down the aisle; not when I should have sported my baby bump with pride and not when my amazing body had birthed the miracle tiny humans I had created inside of me. This body of mine has never been good enough to me, and I can’t think of a single time I accepted a “you’re beautiful” compliment without shaking my head in response. I have, however, really tried to hide that insecurity from my kids, knowing full well how much damage it could do to them – especially Casey. So I panicked when I heard her sound so unsure of herself, because it reminded me of…. well, me. Did she hear me? Did some nasty comment made to my husband about my appearance slip out while she was in ear shot? Was this all my fault? I sat down on the floor and pulled her onto my lap. I had no idea what to say, or how to say it without choking on the tears I was holding back. How do you answer a question like that? The worst possible answer would be “yes”, which would validate that ‘skinny’ is, in fact, the way we should look. “No” would be an unthinkable response, and untrue anyway. So, I took a deep breath and asked her if she thought I was beautiful. She answered that she thought I was the most beautiful lady in the whole world (bless her). I then asked her whether I would be more beautiful if I were thinner. She shook her head fiercely and answered no. Would I be less beautiful if I were bigger? Another strong no. Would I be less beautiful if my hair was short? No. Would I be more beautiful with longer eyelashes? No. I tried to explain to her that “skinny” is certainly not a sign of beauty. The truth is though, that even as the words came out my mouth, I didn’t believe them myself. How sad is that? She then asked me why the ladies on the front of the magazines on the way to the till were always so thin with pretty makeup on if it wasn’t important. She pointed out that the princesses in the movies she loves so much were also “skinny”, with perfect, long and flowing hair. Even Barbie is supermodel material. I was speechless, not knowing how to tackle this conversation that could either be a pivotal moment in my daughter’s life, or something she may forget as soon as she realises Peppa Pig is on TV. As a parent, the pressure to know what to say at times such as these is crushing, you can never know just how important it may be to them in the long run. Deep down, for a split second I was relieved that it wasn’t me that is to blame. But after some thought I realised that, in a way, I guess I am at fault. Every morning my little girl sees me applying my make-up to ‘beautify’ myself. I told her that no one really needs makeup, but in truth, I wouldn’t dare leave the house without at least my foundation and a lick (or 10) of mascara. I then drop her at school, where she sees her friends being dropped off by their moms – who are also mostly all wearing makeup too. On the weekends, we sometimes go to do our shopping for toiletries from a pharmacy. I love going, and always walk out with far more items than I had on my trusty, yet utterly useless, list. But, as you walk through the doors you are greeted by the shiny cosmetics counter; followed by rows and rows of, you guessed it: makeup - because we’re worth it, right? I think of animated movies I have seen with Casey lately, and the ‘female lead’ is either a skinny and beautiful human…. Or an animal. We have a large range of dolls that are skinny, and all the Disney princesses could certainly fearlessly rock a bikini if they wanted to (unlike me – who hides behind as many layers as possible while looking at the other ladies on the beach wondering how they had kids AND still have flat stomachs.) We do not have one role model for kids who looks, well, human. All of them have eyes larger than what is proportionally accurate, the waists of small children and not a single bit of cellulite in sight. Even I have seen the slimmest models with some hail damage. Shouldn’t Barbie have some too?? Why is it such a surprise when children (as young as seven apparently) see all of this and start to wonder why they don’t look like that and think that this must mean they are “ugly”? And how can we fix it? After a few too many seconds of silence, I asked her how she chose who to play with at school. Did she choose the prettiest girl and play with her? No, she answered. Her best friend is the person who was the kindest to her, right from the first day when she was the “new girl” at school. The one that accepts her for who she is. I then had to admit something that, in all honesty, I kinda I hate doing – I had to admit that I don’t have all the answers. That Mommy sometimes can’t explain why these things are important to some people, but they shouldn’t be, and hopefully one day everyone will start to see that (myself included). I wanted to make sure she knew that the people on the cover of magazines don’t even look that way in real life, and that the princesses in cartoons are just that – cartoons. Lastly I told her the most important thing I want her to remember is that grace and kindness are the prettiest things in the whole, wide world and it shines through us like the sun - even brighter than her new Belle dress.
As for me? I am now completely determined to work on seeing myself the way I want my baby girl to grow up seeing herself - and the way she sees her mommy right now.
