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Why I Worry About Teaching My Daughter Self-Acceptance
When I was around 7 or 8, I penned a heartfelt note to my mom that went something like this:
“Mom, I’m sorry I’m fat. I hate myself. You probably don’t love me. Maybe I should run away. I wish you didn’t have such a big daughter.”
Just recalling that letter makes me want to give my younger self a warm hug, wishing I could shield her from those feelings of shame and disgust. The thought of my daughters experiencing such emotions at a young age truly breaks my heart.
I remember the moment that prompted my note. I was at a friend’s house when we were measuring our wrists to see if our fingers could touch. Mine didn’t, while others easily wrapped around theirs. At that time, I felt utterly wrong in every way.
By then, I had already been weighed in gym class and knew I was heavier than the girls I admired. Even though the weigh-ins were discreet, the curiosity of others made it worse. I recall feeling sad, realizing that I was somehow less than my peers.
My mom always tried to reassure me, telling me I was beautiful, but deep down, I knew she was just my mom saying the right thing. I carried those insecurities with me for years, searching for ways to lose weight through various methods, both healthy and harmful. I’ve cycled through wearing baggy clothes to hide myself and investing in nice outfits to boost my confidence. Throughout my life, I’ve experienced weight fluctuations from my wedding to pregnancy, and I’ve even undergone surgery to improve my health.
Now that I have daughters, I strive to model healthy self-acceptance. My eldest is almost 6 and absolutely stunning. Recently, while getting her and her little sister ready for school, I heard her say that her sister was prettier than her. It hurt my heart to hear her look down at her belly and say, “I have a big belly, though.” In that moment, I felt transported back to my childhood and wished I could share the wisdom I’ve gained over the years.
I quickly reassured her of her beauty, but I can’t shake the fear that comes with it. I don’t want her to experience those feelings I had. I often wonder how to teach her about true beauty that lies beyond appearance, to help her understand self-acceptance and health—concepts I still grapple with myself. I need her to know that we can both love ourselves and be happy.
As her mother, I want to guide her towards confidence, just as she reaches for my hand at night when she needs comfort. Every piece of me went into making her—my joys, my struggles, and even my insecurities. I’m committed to helping her grow into a confident woman.
Ultimately, I confess I’m afraid of her feelings being hurt, and I hope I never receive a note like the one I wrote to my mom. But I’m determined to face these fears for both of us.
For further support on this journey, check out resources like CDC’s ART page and Make A Mom’s at-home insemination kits for additional insights. If you’re interested in learning more about self-acceptance, visit this blog post as well.
In summary, as a parent, I grapple with the weight of instilling self-acceptance in my daughters while navigating my own insecurities. The journey is complex, but I’m committed to fostering a nurturing environment where we can all learn to love ourselves and thrive together.