The other day, as I was getting ready, my 7-year-old daughter, Lily, suddenly froze, her eyes wide with shock as she gazed at my legs. Being the worrywart that I am, I exclaimed, “What’s wrong?!”
“There are bumps all over your legs!” she exclaimed. “Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?”
I chuckled and replied, “Oh, that’s just cellulite.” Then I added with a wink, “It runs in the family.” She didn’t quite grasp the humor.
I realized this was one of those crucial moments to discuss body image, but I found myself staring at my reflection in the unforgiving bathroom light, questioning whether I should be dialing 911.
“What is it, and why do you have it?” she pressed.
“It’s a good thing,” I stammered. “It’s energy stored up for when you might need it.”
“Energy?” Her brow furrowed in disbelief.
“Well, um, it’s kind of like air bubbles under your skin.”
“Air bubbles?”
“Honestly, I’m not entirely sure. Let’s just forget about it.”
But she was clearly concerned, and now I was too. Suddenly, I felt a pressing need to address something I’d never cared about before.
“Can you make it go away?” she asked hopefully.
“I suppose I could if I started going to the gym.”
“Why don’t you go to the gym?” she inquired innocently.
“Because…”
“We have a gym in our building, and you’ve got workout clothes. You could go while I’m at school.”
“BA-BAM,” I thought. My little girl just served me a wake-up call on a treadmill.
I started to ponder the flimsy excuses I had for avoiding the gym. My NutriBullet is packed away, exercise triggers my rosacea, I need to shed ten pounds for my trendy stirrup leggings and backless workout tops, I don’t have a fancy BPA-free water bottle, I didn’t shave my legs, I need supportive sneakers, I lack an upbeat iTunes playlist, I should walk the dog, I still need to go to Target, and there’s always the laundry—so much laundry!
Part of me wanted to admit that I wasn’t even sure the gym would help with my cellulite. But then I recalled her words: “I have the biggest legs in my class, even bigger than the boys.”
That thought hit me hard—this is a dangerous and heartbreaking path. She’s comparing her legs to others, while I never really thought about anyone else’s legs. My focus was always on my own, and now I was facing the emergency situation forming on the back of mine.
I assured Lily that it was okay. That I was fine, she was fine, and that everyone is perfect just the way they are. No one is dying from cellulite.
And so, I laid out my gym clothes for the morning.
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In summary, a simple, innocent question from my daughter sparked a realization about body image and the importance of self-care. Sometimes, it takes a child’s perspective to motivate us to make changes we’ve been avoiding.