I am raising two girls.
I am also raising a boy, but he is less complicated; less scary. My boy may be physically draining, and a bit of a nihilist, and a little too much the class clown at school, but that is the easy stuff.
I don’t have to worry about raising him to love his body, to think he is beautiful, to really know it deep down to his core. Josh doesn’t change his clothing 14 times a day. Josh doesn’t tell me that he absolutely needs a cashmere sweater or he will die. Josh doesn’t count how many times he wore those jeans this month. Josh isn’t anti-waistband. Most likely, Josh won’t go through the pudgy adolescence that his mother went through. Most likely, Josh won’t look at his body and see his flaws. He won’t see chubby thighs and a flabby belly.
But the girls? The girls are different. The girls are me. And I know we have a tough road ahead of us.
But until we get there,
I am going to enjoy the moments
when my girl goes to watch her sister swim
in her giant dress-up skirt
and she doesn’t even notice
for one single second
that people are looking, gawking, laughing, smiling.
Because it won’t always be this way.
Ali Martell, is the managing editor of Canada’s Premier Parenting Site, The Yummy Mummy Club. She is also a writer, an ellipticizer, a mother, a wife, a lion-tamer, a diet coke quitter, a juggler, a getter-of-drinks. She is Canada’s Emma Pillsbury and her three children tell her that she is a DOF (destroyer of fun). She is learning to use her camera better and love her thighs more. You can read more from Ali on her blog, Cheaper Than Therapy.
Adorable. I know what you mean, though. Every time my 5 year old looks in the mirror, she knows she’s beautiful. She doesn’t realize that often her clothes don’t match, her hair is crazy, or there’s a streak of chocolate on her face. I dread the day when I see her turn in the mirror to look at how her butt looks in a pair of jeans. Now, she just loves to spend her time in a skirt that swings when she twirls.
This is precisely why I am fine if I have all boys. I always tell my husband that I can eff them up less than a girl…you know, with all my issues. SIGH. Love the pics.
It’s kind of true, though. Girls are SO emotionally tough. They are worth it, of course, but so tough.
Ali, this post just made me feel relieved that (so far) I have a son. I mean, I would love to have a daughter but I know it’s going to be a real experience raising one if I’m blessed with one. Your children are all so beautiful!
This is EXACTLY why I let my girls dress themselves (most of the time).
a) I’m coveting that skirt. Seriously.
b) YES. This is why Zoë gets to leave the house occasionally with a kitten face drawn on in sparkly eyeliner, or with fairy wings. I’m trying to do everything in my power to *not* instill self-consciousness. At least as long as she’s clothed.
I remember the day that Lorelli wanted to wear her puffy skirt – everywhere. With a Cornell tee. And some tights. I was all…sure…whatever honey. And then yesterday…she wore this cute little jean dress from old navy (dark denim with gray and navy long sleeves). With a red turtle neck. And red pants. And gray boots. She was adorable!!! But…her other mother wasn’t as impressed with her outfit choices!!!
Love this. I don’t worry about my stepson’s self-image either, but do I worry about my daughter. That she’ll grow up with thighs inherited from her mom’s family. Stupid genetics. Or that she’ll have days that she hates everything about herself. I find myself praying that she’ll be tall and slender like her dad, not because I think she’ll be more beautiful, but so that she doesn’t have to go through the crap that I did. I’m not looking forward to the day someone makes her sad by their comments. She’s less than a year now, so I’ve got time until then, and am looking forward to her outfit choices!
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