I Learned It From Watching You

Tonight I decided that I will no longer participate in any conversations about weight- my own or anyone else’s. The big exception to that being with my doctors (and my therapist) of course.

I just wanted to take a moment to explain myself so you don’t find me rude if I change the subject or move into a different conversation when you bring up your new diet, or the 5 pounds you can’t seem to loose, or how the cheese that we are eating is going to go straight to your thighs.  It’s not that I don’t get it.  In fact, the reason I feel the need to draw this line is that I get it too much.

It is far too easy for me to look at the numbers on a scale or the way my clothes are bunching around my waist and think how much better, how much happier I would be if I could just make that little bit extra of me magically go away. I can go back through my blogs and read One Hundred and Thirty Pounds and see that being skinny was a far cry from being healthy, but that doesn’t mean that the impulse to blame everything that is wrong in my life on my weight has just disappeared (see One Hundred and Fifty Eight Pounds.)

So I am taking action.  I am not giving that seed room to grow. My beautiful girls will hear enough of that from the world around them.  I refuse to allow them to hear it from me.

And talking about what’s wrong with our bodies is like a competitive sport for moms.  And even if we think those conversations are just between us grown-ups and our mommy juice, our little ones see and hear much more than we realize.  I am going to step on out of that race. I don’t want to ask my daughters one day where they learned to hate their perfect bodies and have their answer be, “I learned it from watching YOU Mom!!” (Cue the 80s PSA music.)

So I’m not going to do it anymore.  I won’t judge you if you want to have these types of discussions, but I will do my best to bow out of the conversation.  I am writing this publicly so that if you hear me breaking this new rule for myself you will gently correct me.  “We don’t say bad things about our bodies,” will work just fine to help me remember my resolution.

I took a bath tonight.  I read a book.  And as I got out and I rubbed lotion on my much- scarred belly, my thighs dimpled by cellulite, and my breasts that will never look the same after nursing twins, I made an important decision.  I am going to really work to love this body- broken and imperfect as it is.  Because a healthy body-image is something I would be proud to have my girls learn from watching me.

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