Girls
Tonight I listened to my husband as he helped my step-daughter take a bath. We have been talking about finding a good shampoo and conditioner for her hair since the days of baby and kid friendly all over wash are coming to an end. He told me he did some Google searching and that everything says for ‘fine’ hair you need a volumizing shampoo. I sincerely applauded his efforts but explained we aren’t necessarily worried about enhancing the aesthetic at this point but we need something that will just keep it healthy. I have extremely thick, coarse hair and use Pureology…. But aside from having a drastically different texture, we were looking more for something between L’Oreal kids and salon quality products for our 6 year old.
I grew up with 2 sisters, 2 female cousins, who all 4 went on to have one or more daughters, married a man with a little girl and am coming up on my own daughter’s 1st birthday. Still, navigating the waters of being a female, and raising females is a constant study. The amount of energy and work I have put into worrying how others perceive me, my body, my clothing choices, my hair, my attitude, my facial expressions pretty clearly explains why I am perpetually tired. My hope as my daughter grows is that I have figured enough out to eliminate the load of self-criticism so she has the energy to carry out much more worthy pursuits.
When thinking back to early moments of being aware of my body 3 distinct memories come to mind.
First, I often tell people that others had childhoods and I played soccer. Every childhood memory I have includes soccer. Kicking a ball against a wall at my sister’s games, every single summer going to every single soccer camp, playing on 3 different age levels and 1 boy’s team. Traveling to tournaments.
I desperately wanted to be as good as my older sister and really just desperately wanted to be doing whatever my older sister was doing. We grew up near the Katy Trail where it passed in front of the river and every summer there was a mile race and a 5k. My dad ran every 5k he heard about, drove to different states to run the 1/2 marathon on Saturday, sleeping in his car to run the full on Sunday. When we were young he would take us to complete the mile race and he signed up for the 5k.
My sister, a friend of hers and I were all standing at the starting line for this race. It was my first and my sister is 4 years older than me. At the start of the race, they took off…. I remember being scared in the crowd of people all larger than me and trying to keep track of them ahead. I ran with desperation. If there was ever a point in my life where I reached maximum effort, giving absolutely everything that I had, it was that race. My body could not sustain this for the entire mile. Eventually I petered out and finished 27th or so and found my very frantic dad at the finish line who quickly got me water and snacks. My body failed me, I wasn’t good enough, I’d never be as fast as her.
Second, I don’t know what, or when, or why I began to categorize food as ‘healthy’ and ‘unhealthy.’ I don’t remember that conversation ever being had nor at the time of the following story do I remember being overly concerned with what my body looked like. But I knew that there were certain foods in our house that I would feel guilty to be discovered eating. This one is likely more of a conglomerate of several similar instances. But I remember being on my couch after school, home alone, eating out of those big plastic containers of cheese puffs and as soon as I heard a car pull into the driveway signaling my sister, mom or dad were home; I’d run into the kitchen to put the container away and hide the evidence. I felt shame for eating poorly and didn’t want anyone to see it. I still have to watch myself and sometimes find that I’m standing in the kitchen out of sight from my husband sneaking an extra cookie or piece of chocolate…
Third, I remember my first boyfriend when I was 16 years old telling me that I would be “super hot” if I lost “like 10 pounds.”
Now I am not a therapist but I can draw some loose conclusions about how these memories may have affected my self-worth, body image and relationship with food. I also know they are not the stories of empowerment and ownership I want my own daughter to be reflecting on some day. However the value and confidence I have for my own body and who I am has grown substantially in my 31 years and there are a few habits, routines…and gems I also practice with my girl.
We don’t hyper-focus on the morality of food. We model a healthy relationship. We eat 3 meals a day, that include a protein, carb and fat. We snack if we want to and every Saturday is ‘donut Saturday’ I’ll eat 2 chocolate long johns with my coffee. If I am eating it, she can eat.
There are posted affirmations on our mirrors that focus on our strengths and capabilities.
I rarely stop her body. At 11 months I talk her through the risks to consider and let her explore up until the point there is the potential for harm. (I’m aware at this age I’m building my own habit and that she does not understand the risks I am explaining. The point is that I’m not deciding for her, she can learn to trust herself)
Our bodies are not inherently sexual. I don’t hide my body. I don’t run from the shower to the bedroom. I don’t rush to cover up. I am not afraid or ashamed of my body.
I work out in front of and include my daughter. Every day she sees me lifting weights, running, sweating and pushing past my comfort zone.
We are outside and active at every single opportunity. The majority of her toys include physical play. We take care of things around the house and have multiple outdoor chores we do together.
Every time I leave her I tell her 3 things about herself she should be proud of.
We are all working to undo the traumas of our past. And I know I have some major screw ups in my future as a mom. But hopefully if I can keep building on these few habits above, regardless of how I mess up while trying to figure it out, she has a strong foundation of confidence and assuredness to land on. — xoxo