While browsing through the clearance section at a local store, I overheard two young girls, probably around 14 years old, chatting in the dressing room next to mine. Initially, their conversation was filled with laughter, discussing some boy they liked. But the mood shifted abruptly when one of them remarked, “I’d look so much better if I was as skinny as you. You suck. I just won’t eat tonight.” Her friend didn’t protest; they continued as if this was a perfectly normal topic of discussion. Perhaps, in their world, this was so commonplace that it didn’t even raise an eyebrow, as casual as ordering fries with a meal.
My heart ached. I could see myself in that girl. Some days, I still feel like that girl. Standing there, in my own reflection, I was suddenly flooded with a wave of sorrow. It felt like I was transported back to my own teenage years, standing in a similar dressing room, pinching at my body, wishing away every flaw. I longed to be as “skinny” as someone else—my sister, my best friend, or even a fictional character.
The obsession with being skinny consumed me, leading me down a dark path of disordered eating. Many of those formative years, which should have been filled with joy and milestones, were instead spent in depression, loathing my body, and projecting my insecurities onto others. I didn’t care for myself, so I unintentionally hurt those around me. I was on a self-destructive path, one calorie avoided or binge indulged at a time.
As I realized that my emotional outburst could be overheard, I quickly pulled myself together. In that moment, I envisioned a life-changing intervention. I imagined stepping into the dressing room, telling her to eat, to reject the societal pressures that dictate how we should look. I wanted to be the person I needed during my own struggles.
I longed to tell her that being skinny doesn’t define your worth. It doesn’t secure college admissions, foster meaningful friendships, or enhance your character. It merely equates to a number on a scale.
I wanted to enter that dressing room and highlight her beauty beyond her size. I fantasized about driving to her house and tossing out her scale or taking her out for lunch without the obsession of counting calories or planning a workout immediately after. I wanted to instill in her the understanding that her beauty has nothing to do with how well her clothes fit or the digits on a scale.
Yet, I said nothing. I froze, overwhelmed by my emotions. I ugly cried on my way home, regretting the silence and wishing I could have connected with her, not just for her sake, but for my own. I thought of my daughter and feared passing down my old habits.
Just the other day, I witnessed my 2-year-old mimicking the behavior of weighing herself. My heart sank; she was emulating what she saw in me. It was a wake-up call. I realized that merely preaching self-acceptance wasn’t enough. I needed to embody self-love and model it for her.
Right then, I committed to breaking the cycle of self-hatred. I’ll strive to be a true example of body positivity, even on the days I might fake it. I will resist the negative self-talk and the societal pressures that tell me my worth is tied to fitting into a certain size. I refuse to allow my daughter to believe that her value hinges on the fit of her clothes.
When I got home, I embraced my daughter tightly, reflecting on that girl at the store. While I couldn’t help her, I have the opportunity to shape my daughter’s perception of herself. We sat in front of the mirror, having a pretend tea party with real biscuits, planning adventures, and dancing together. As she admired her reflection, she said, “Mommy pretty like Meme. Pretty, happy Mommy.” I felt that joy radiate, and I vowed to be that for her, always.
For those interested in topics related to self-acceptance and body positivity, check out this excellent resource on fertility and home insemination at Facts About Fertility. You might also find insights into personal journeys like this one at Make a Mom’s Single Mom Story.
Remember, breaking the cycle of self-doubt starts with us—let’s show our daughters the beauty of self-love.