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Who Will Tell Her She’s Not Beautiful?
“Mom, come here quick!” my daughter, Mia, calls out from the upstairs bathroom. I rush upstairs, expecting to find her in a bit of trouble, but instead, I find my five-year-old standing on a stool, gazing at her reflection in the mirror, clad only in her underwear.
“I tilted it down, and now I can see my whole body!” she exclaims, twisting side to side with a big smile. She flexes her little arm, beaming, “I’m super strong!”
To me, she is absolutely perfect. And it seems she feels the same way about herself—at least for now.
But the thought hits me like a ton of bricks: one day, someone will tell her she isn’t perfect. An anger swells up within me. Some insensitive person will point out that her feet are too big or that she has her dad’s nose. They might even make comments about her slim frame or her little thighs. Someone will come along and alter the way she sees herself forever.
As Mia twirls in front of the mirror, I find myself wondering who that person might be. She has a close-knit group of friends at school, and some of them have older sisters. Could it be one of them? It’s tough to imagine, especially since their biggest conflict right now is “I won’t be your best friend ever again,” which usually resolves itself in a day or two. Critiquing each other’s appearance isn’t even on their radar.
It won’t be from TV either; characters like Lily from her favorite show dress in a way that embraces childhood innocence. I doubt the media will be the villain in this story.
I approach my beautiful daughter and wrap her in a hug. “Look at us, Mommy,” she says, pointing at the mirror. I glance up and start fiddling with the grays peeking through my hair. As she poses, I can’t help but notice the bags under my eyes and the lines on my forehead. I hear her giggle and turn to see her mimicking my silly expressions. Then she looks at me and says, “Mommy, you’re beautiful.”
And just like that, I realize I’m the one with the problem. I’m the one introducing negative thoughts. When she asks me to flex, I complain about my arm fat. When she encourages me to wear my favorite black pants, I say my butt is too big. I’m the one challenging her idea of beauty. I’m the one who brings in societal standards that could make her second-guess herself.
“I want to grow up and look just like you, Mommy,” she says, and in that moment, I realize she doesn’t see the tired, self-critical mom I see. She envisions a strong, loving figure who protects her and showers her with affection.
I mentally shake off those negative thoughts. I refuse to be the one who diminishes her self-esteem. I won’t let her suffer from the constant barrage of judgments that swirl in my own mind.
Tomorrow, I’ll tell her she’s beautiful. And I’ll keep doing it every day until I believe it as much as she does. Someday, someone may tell her she isn’t perfect. But I promise, that person won’t be me.
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Summary:
This article captures the heartfelt moment between a mother and her daughter as they navigate the complexities of self-image and beauty standards. The mother vows to instill confidence in her daughter, recognizing the societal pressures that can negatively affect their perception of beauty.