My thoughtful, vibrant, and sensitive daughter was nestled under a cozy blanket of personalized fleece and lovingly hand-knit warmth. In that moment, it struck me just how cherished she is. Our bedtime routine had become our sacred escape from the chaos of siblings and busy schedules. Often, she would ask, “Can I share something with you at bedtime?” After our reading time, we might indulge in a mother-daughter game of “Would You Rather?” or flip through a magazine to pick out our favorite images. There was an undeniable comfort in sharing that space together—like two best friends confiding their secrets during a sleepover, sharing dreams and worries, laughing until we couldn’t breathe.
One evening, as she was drifting into slumber, she said, “Mommy, sometimes I ask you if I’m fat just to hear you say I’m so skinny.” I was taken aback. “Why would you want to hear that?” I questioned. “Oh, it just feels so good,” she replied cheerfully. I felt a wave of anger wash over me. My mind raced with thoughts: “You’re only seven! I’ve worked hard to avoid using terms like fat or skinny when discussing your appearance—or anyone else’s for that matter. I focus on your creativity, kindness, and all the wonderful things your healthy body can do. You’re only SEVEN!”
I felt a window of innocence slam shut and I couldn’t help but feel robbed.
Out loud, I emphasized all the things I believed about her adventurous spirit and inner beauty, adhering strictly to my guidelines: avoid labels, redirect the conversation toward positive traits, and eliminate any associations with looks. My intentions were noble, and my praise was genuine. But as I left her room that night, I sensed a shift. Despite my efforts to challenge societal beauty standards, my lively daughter was still seeking validation for her appearance, particularly the ideal of being thin.
The more I pondered, the more I realized this might be on me. Suddenly, a truth emerged: she was calling my bluff. I’ve always struggled to accept compliments about my own looks. Since becoming a mother (my younger daughter is four), I’ve become aware of the need to graciously accept praise, whether for my outfit or hairstyle. Yet, the instinct to downplay my worth runs deep. My daughter has undoubtedly picked up on my hesitance and perhaps even my insecurities.
When others compliment her appearance, I often redirect the praise toward her character and intellect, inadvertently negating her chance to accept the compliment. It’s as if I’m trying to scrub away freshly written words—an action that leaves a smudge, removing their significance. I fall back on my go-to line, which she now mockingly quotes, “Well, I think they’re cute, but I’m required,” accompanied by a self-deprecating chuckle.
My well-meaning efforts to cultivate a humble, socially confident daughter seem to have backfired, leaving her questioning if even I, the person who should appreciate her beauty the most, truly does. Who could blame her? Sometimes, a girl simply wants to feel beautiful and know that those who matter recognize her worth—inside and out.
Perhaps it’s time to acknowledge that beauty isn’t a taboo topic. My daughter and I often admire beauty in nature, art, and people, cheering on friends, family, and even strangers. It’s clear that it’s easier to give appreciation than to receive it.
A wise friend, an artist and mother, has suggested some practical ways to normalize conversations about beauty. One approach is to discuss varying interpretations of beauty, exploring questions like, “Can something awkward or unique be considered beautiful?” or “Can familiarity enhance beauty?”
We might also connect beauty to utility or wisdom—like appreciating a turtle’s shell for being its home or finding beauty in the aged patina of a building, which reflects the richness of time rather than mere decline. Engaging in these discussions can help demystify the topic of beauty in everyday settings, be it during playdates or museum visits.
For now, I’m committed to complimenting my daughter’s physical appearance just as I do her other strengths. I want her to feel proud of her unique beauty and to build confidence, like celebrating the charm of her toothless grin and the sprinkle of freckles on her nose. While my opinion matters now, I aspire for her to rely less on external validation, including my own.
Instead, I promise to encourage her to explore her own faith and to surround her with supportive friends—those who uplift, see her beauty, and celebrate it in every circumstance. Perhaps we can both become better at accepting compliments. After all, as a mom, I want nothing more than to help my daughter navigate through the clutter of societal expectations and emerge victorious, like winning a stuffed animal from one of those claw machines.
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Summary:
This article explores the complex relationship between beauty, self-image, and parenting. The author reflects on her experiences with her daughter, who seeks validation for her appearance, revealing the societal pressures that infiltrate even the youngest minds. It emphasizes the importance of recognizing and appreciating both inner and outer beauty and encourages open conversations about the topic to foster self-confidence in children.
Keyphrase: Beauty is not a bad word
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