It's hard to change your way of thinking, of certain verbiage. It's hard to change your tune away from saying words like skinny or fat and replacing them with healthy and strong, but we do that here, now. We're really careful about it. On the random occasion those words are thrown around (cough::my mom::cough:: example, Look at you all skinny and fit!) I try to gently correct back to healthy. Being healthy. (In her defense, she's just being nice to me, and doing what moms do. :) )
All this to say--even I am retraining my brain away from all that stuff. Away from being self-deprecating or poking at my flawed areas and being critical, and only caring about the scale. Rather, trying to notice the slow, gradual changes and feel good knowing my hard work is responsible for it.
So the other day, I had this random itchy rash on my body. I used a new body wash that had honey in it, and I'm pretty sure I reacted to that. Emeline was curious and I was sitting in the bathroom, when she asked to see. I lifted up my shirt and showed her the hardly-noticeable-to-the-eye itchy rash on my belly.
See that? Right there. It itches mommy.
Oh I'm so sorry, mom!
Then I saw her eyes as she noticed them. My stretchmarks. They live under my belly button area. They're faded, but they're still very much there.
What are 'dem? You have a boo-boo, mom?
|(hard to see them as well here, I tried to get them highly visible-|
trust me, deep and very there--)
Oh, those? Those are called stretchmarks.
She repeated me, saying something that resembled the word, but not quite getting it.
But, what are 'dem?
Then that's when I told her. I told her they're the marks my body gave me when she was a tiny baby inside me. I reminded her of what it was like when Lucy was inside my belly last summer. She giggled as she remembered. I told her how my belly has to stretch out reeeeal far to make room for her. And these are the marks that my body made so I could always, always remember how special it was to be pregnant with my girls'.
She replied with a content "Ohhhh!" and a giggle. Seeming very much intrigued yet happy with that answer. Happy to learn about such a little history in the form of marks under my belly button.
And just like that, she was bopping around the bathroom onto the next thing.
I thought to myself, you did it.
I knew the day would come and she would be curious of my stretchmarks. What those marks on my belly were and why were they there. I knew how easy it would be for me to make a disgusted face like I do with my girlfriends or my sister when I talk about them. When I talk about how wearing a two piece will never be the same, or how hard I may work but these darn marks will never go away.
But I always hoped I wouldn't leak any of that to my daughters.
One day maybe I can be as accepting of these history marks as my kid was. She may only be 3, unable to wipe her butt properly or blow her nose without a little help, but somehow I still learn from her every single day.