My intelligent, kind, and sensitive daughter was nestled in a cozy blanket, surrounded by the warmth of personalized fleece and hand-knit love. Watching her drift off, I thought, she is so deeply cherished. Bedtime was our sacred moment – a retreat from the chaos of siblings, school, and schedules. She often asked, “Can I share something with you at bedtime?” After our stories, we would sometimes play a round of “Would you rather?” or flip through a magazine to pick our favorites. There was something so comforting about being in her room together, like two friends exchanging secrets during a slumber party – sharing dreams and fears, recounting our day, and laughing until we snorted.
One night, as she was about to drift off, she said, “Mom, sometimes I ask if I’m fat just to hear you say I’m so skinny.” I was taken aback and asked, “Why would you want to hear that?” “Oh, it just feels so good,” she replied cheerfully. I cringed at how easily those words slipped out. A wave of anger surged through me, like a tornado tearing through my thoughts.
“Why are you even worried about this at seven?” I thought. “I’ve worked so hard to avoid using terms like fat or skinny when discussing appearances – yours or anyone else’s.” I had always focused on her creativity, empathy, and all the amazing things her strong body could do. “You are only seven!” I mentally screamed. “And you interpreted my silence as a compliment about being ‘so skinny’?” I felt a wave of frustration wash over me. “I detest how society has influenced your early views of beauty with unrealistic standards.” I hated that I had ever shown dissatisfaction with my own appearance in front of her. “At seven, life should revolve around popsicles, playgrounds, and ponies!”
The window of innocence I wanted to keep open had swiftly shut, and I felt robbed. I reinforced my messages about her adventurous spirit and inner beauty, sticking to my rules of avoiding labels and reframing the conversation around personality traits. My intentions were pure, and my compliments genuine. But as I left her room that night, I sensed a shift. Despite all my efforts to instill a value system that embraced inner qualities, my vibrant first grader still sought validation about her appearance.
It hit me: as the everyday woman in her life, this responsibility fell on me. I realized that she was calling me out. I struggle to accept compliments about my appearance. Since becoming a mother (I have another daughter who’s four), I’ve learned I should graciously acknowledge praise about my style or hair. However, my instinct is to dismiss it, a default deeply ingrained in me. My daughter has surely picked up on my uncertainties.
Moreover, when someone compliments her looks, I tend to shift the focus onto her character and intelligence. Before she has a chance to accept the compliment, I inadvertently reject it for her. It’s like trying to erase barely dried ink; my actions leave a stain. I often use my “famous line” when someone calls my kids cute: “Well, I think so, but I’m required,” said with a self-deprecating chuckle.
My best intentions to raise a humble, secure daughter have backfired, leading her to doubt whether even I acknowledge her beauty. Perhaps that’s why she seeks my validation. Who can blame her? Sometimes, a girl just wants to feel beautiful and know that the important people in her life recognize her beauty, inside and out.
Maybe it’s time I accept that beauty isn’t a bad word. My daughter and I often admire it in nature, art, and others, celebrating it openly. Perhaps it’s easier to give praise than to receive it. A wise friend of mine, an artist and mother whose talents are beyond measure, suggested ways to make beauty a comfortable topic of conversation.
One idea she proposed is to explore various interpretations of beauty, helping children shape their definition of it. “Discuss beauty more to help kids articulate what it means to them. Ask questions like, ‘Can unique or unconventional things be beautiful, perhaps even more so than ordinary ones? Can things gain beauty once you come to know and love them?’”
We could also connect beauty to functionality or wisdom. For example, appreciating a turtle’s shell as beautiful because it serves as a home, or finding beauty in the aging process of a building because it tells a story. These discussions can happen during playdates, museum visits, or casual chats with friends. They remind me of my grandmother, whose striking cheekbones I noticed long before her wrinkles. I should share that memory with my daughter.
Moving forward, I will strive to compliment her physical appearance as much as I do her other qualities, before she seeks validation from society’s superficial standards. I want to highlight her unique beauty and help her build confidence in areas that might cause her angst, like her adorable toothless grin that perfectly showcases the sprinkle of freckles on her nose.
While my opinions matter to her now, and I hope they always will to some extent, I don’t want her to rely solely on my approval. Instead, I promise to nurture her understanding of unconditional love and faith while encouraging her to seek friendships that uplift and celebrate her beauty in all forms.
Perhaps we can both learn to be better at accepting compliments. As a mother, I just want to reach out and pull my girl away from the overwhelming noise of society’s expectations, helping her see that beauty can be a source of empowerment rather than pressure.
For more insights on navigating beauty and self-acceptance, check out this article, which provides additional perspectives on the topic. If you’re interested in at-home insemination options, Cryobaby offers reputable kits for your needs. Additionally, this resource provides valuable information about pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, it’s vital to create an environment where beauty can be discussed openly and positively. By embracing the concept of beauty as something multifaceted and not solely linked to appearance, we can help our children grow into confident individuals who appreciate both inner and outer beauty.
Leave a Reply