Sugar and spice and everything nice? Although I grew up chanting this nursery rhyme with my sisters, I’m pretty sure I’ve never shared it with my own daughters. Instead, on rainy days when we’ve forgotten umbrellas, I encourage getting wet (and insist that they won’t melt!), I declare that strong is better than skinny, and I regularly point out that they are makers of their own happiness.
But even as young girls, they are already aware that the rain will mess up their hair and that thin thighs are somehow more desirable. It’s my job to turn their perceived flaws into features of natural beauty.
My 7 year old’s left eye has a large hazel spot that stands out from the blue. It’s not a flaw, but a “sparkle.” When the skinny jeans just don’t fit, those are “strong legs,” I assure her. And she’s sure to tell anyone who will listen.
My oldest daughter is 11. She has freckles and large gaps between her teeth—an awkward youthful grin. At 5’5” she’s tall for her age. Gangly. But she’s also got a soft, disproportionate midline. She is more acutely aware than my youngest of all her “imperfections,” brought to her attention directly or indirectly in day-to-day interactions with kids at school, family, friends.
Despite the daily battle my oldest has with her reflection in the mirror, (surprisingly?) she tends to trust and believe me when I tell her my teeth had the same gaps at her age and one day she’ll wish she was even taller. In return, she tells me that she loves my old-looking hands, my freckled arms and my aging face (“You’re not OLD, Mom!”)
As women, we are constantly treading the waters of idealized images and media messages that tout a very specific image of perfection. We become excruciatingly aware of every so-called “imperfection.” Yet, we tend to see our kids as beautiful examples of imperfection.
My kids have taught me a valuable lesson: to see my own perceived imperfections through their admiring eyes and know that we all are perfectly imperfect.
Despite the daily battle my oldest has with her reflection in the mirror, (surprisingly?) she tends to trust and believe me when I tell her my teeth had the same gaps at her age and one day she’ll wish she was even taller. In return, she tells me that she loves my old-looking hands, my freckled arms and my aging face (“You’re not OLD, Mom!”)
As women, we are constantly treading the waters of idealized images and media messages that tout a very specific image of perfection. We become excruciatingly aware of every so-called “imperfection.” Yet, we tend to see our kids as beautiful examples of imperfection.
My kids have taught me a valuable lesson: to see my own perceived imperfections through their admiring eyes and know that we all are perfectly imperfect.
Perfectly Imperfect
How Our Kids Perceive Us
by Eliza Cabana
Perfectly Imperfect
Reflecting on "Beauty" Through Our Kids
by Eliza D. Cabana