Thoughtful Friday: Tell Your Daughter She’s Fat

What do you mutter if you catch an unflattering glimpse of yourself in the mirror? Maybe it’s the “How in the ^*#!@)! did I get so fat?” or maybe it’s a sigh of frustration and sadness so subtle that you don’t even notice it.

Next time you find yourself making an unkind statement to your body or your brain, go ahead and tell your daughter she’s fat. Watch a small face become crestfallen and wounded and sow the seeds of a lifetime of body image distortion.

You wouldn’t do that, would you? Nah, I don’t recommend it, even as an experiment for the greater good. But, I’ve actually imagined my beautiful, precocious, obnoxious 5-year old daughter looking in the mirror at herself sighing and saying…

“my thighs are too big.”

“if only I could lose those stubborn pounds, THEN I would wear shorts.”

“I hate my butt. I hate myself.”

If those words spilled from her lips or even if those thoughts crossed her mind, my heart would break into more pieces than a crappy store-bought stale cookie.

Not too long ago, my child was sitting in her booster seat in summer shorts and remarked, “my legs look fat like that.” I instantly told her (in escalating volume) how beautiful she was and that bodies come in all shapes and sizes and no she certainly wasn’t fat but and big legs are powerful and strong and and and… I went on and on. She was taken aback watching mom become the conductor on the Crazy Train since she was only commenting on the physics of leg flesh squishing out a little when seated, which is just a force of nature. Like gravity pulling down menopausal boobs on Grandma. Or me peeing my pants a little when jumping on the trampoline.

My point is, you wouldn’t tell your daughter she’s fat, so stop telling yourself that. It only perpetuates the cycle from generation to generation, little ears are listening, little eyes are watching, and little thighs are already wondering if they’re too big for their boosters. Every time my brain attacks my body like a playground bully, I am now trying to mindfully launch a counter attack of pure gentleness. It’s the way of my own personal peaceful warrior.

You are beautiful now. Right now. Not 10 pounds from now, or 30 pounds ago, or even 100 pounds to go.

Be your own ideal mother and don’t tell your daughter she’s fat. We are our own mothers and we are our own children. So treat yourself like a precious innocent child when you’re naked dripping wet from the shower and in front of an unforgiving mirror, don’t give yourself a bad rap. Instead, wrap yourself in a towel of love, fresh and warm from the dryer.

I’m just sayin’…

Now get out there, have a great weekend and do something fun and nurturing for your soul.