Ugh...the dreaded "Battle of the Bulge".
One day, in kindergarten, my now 8 year old came home and asked "how 'much' calories are in this mama" and I nearly died.
I'm not a dieter. I've never been a dieter.
Would you believe we don't even own a scale? It's true!
I try to eat healthy (and by "healthy" I mean only 4 handfuls of chips rather than the whole bag) but, that comment, from my sweet little girl, made me realize just how much our kids pick up from us.
Apparently, one of the mom's of my daughter's friends was dieting, counting calories, and her daughter picked up on it. However, the last thing I want my daughters to do, is to worry about their weight.
I want them to be confident. I want them to feel great about their bodies and how they look!
Once upon a time, I gave myself credit. Credit for not dieting...but, if I take a long hard look at myself and the words I use around my daughters...I'm not doing them any favors. Just because I don't diet, does not leave me immune to body image issues.
I've never been happy with my body. My legs are too short, my love handles to "lovey", and my saddle bags too large. I don't want my girls to ever think that about themselves...so, I'm trying (I'm trying, I'm trying, I'm trying!!) to "love the skin I'm in".
My mom has told me that, someday, I will wish I had the body I did now. I know that's true...'cuz the body that my 16 year old self hated, I would LOVE to have right now! Or, heck...my 25 year old body would be pretty great too...so, I'm trying to keep hindsight, in my foresight.
I'm trying to recognize that "Hey! I ain't no Giselle Bundchen with her "muscle memory"...but I'm not half bad!" I'll admit...it's hard.
'Specially when the evil Captain and her nasty sidekick AuntFlo come around...boy, they're a miserable pair, aren't they? Makin' me feel all fat and ugly and wrecking my resolve to appreciate what I have now?
Next time, I'm just gonna flip 'em the bird and tell 'em where to go! I'm gonna look in the mirror and ignore my buddah belly and my cellulite (guess I'll hafta raise the mirrors above waist level...) and tell myself, "You know Mama, you ain't half bad!"