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Reflections

It doesn't take a super sleuth to notice that I post frequently (read:  too much) about my fitness and self-image woes as well as my love affair with junk food.  (I ate an embarrassing amount of cookies and peanuts today.  I don't want to talk about it.)  I am well aware of the fact that this makes me seem self-involved, but I have come to find this expression therapeutic.  Remember -I say this with love- you can always stop reading.  #xoxo *

Lately, however, it has occurred to me that my self-image is far more important than I ever realized.  In the coming years, the way I see and judge myself doesn't fall only on my own (obviously shredded) shoulders, but on those of my darling Hulk as well.  As she is beginning to notice her own reflection in the mirror (one of the cutest effing things on the planet), is has given me a reason to re-evaluate the way that I see my own reflection.  I may not like every little thing I see, but I damn well better learn to respect it.  My daughter will learn to respond to her own image the way I respond to mine.

Wow.  That's loaded.

It saddens me when I see little girls harping on themselves for things that they are far too young to worry about:  perfect hair, bigger boobs, smaller waists, straighter teeth, tighter butts...  Somewhere along the line, we created an ideal image and, if we don't fit that unattainable prototype, we are ugly and must therefore live ugly lives.  What a shame.

All of this is easy to recognize in other people, but what happens when I apply this rule to myself?  Sure, it's sad when other people are judgmental of themselves when they look in the mirror, but that's because they don't have the problems that I have.  Right?

WRONG!  Pardon the cliche, but practicing what I preach here seems impossible.  Generally speaking, I'm fine with my image but, just like any woman, I could come up with an entire list of things I would change about it...even more so postpartum.

It won't be the easiest thing in the world for me to learn to go easy on myself as I have always had extremely high standards for people, and for yours truly in particular.  It will take time and a Very. Concentrated. Effort for me to look in the mirror and not see wild hair sitting atop a big schnoz, uneven shoulders, an imperfect butt and mutant feet.  From time to time I do ask myself what I'm getting so worked up about anyway, since I'll be dead some day and none of this will matter.  Still, loathing breeds more loathing and, once I start fixating on one "flaw," I notice a hundred more.

Of course I want Hulk to learn to take care of herself and to have a healthy body, but she will never learn to do that by being such a hater as I am.  So, the next time I find myself eyeballing that slightly crooked tooth or wishing that my hips were narrower or my legs were firmer or...  I need to ask myself, Do I want my daughter to be so cruel to herself?

The answer is as clear as my reflection in the mirror:  No.

*I do not have a Twitter account because I am pre-historic when it comes to technology (you should see my phone), so my hashtags are always to be understood as ironic.

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