I had my eyes checked today, they have continued to improve over the last several years. Three years ago my prescription continued to hold strong at -5.00 (twice legally blind! whee!) Last year I demoted (promoted?) to a -4.75. Today? -4.25! My eyesight is basically the only thing that has improved since turning 30.

DON’T GET ME WRONG, I LOVE YOU SO HARD 30′s!

But I don’t remember EVER requiring this much upkeep in my early 20′s. If I actually kept up on everything I think I’m supposed to be keeping up with I wouldn’t get anything else done.

You know how sometimes you wake up really late and you stumble into the bathroom to see if you grew any new blemishes or wrinkles overnight and a cat jumps on your back? No? Just me? Weird.

I read a terrible beauty magazine while waiting today and realized there is basically a surgery or cosmetic fix for every part of my body, and based on the magazine I’m supposed to already be on my second or third round of Botox and as my jowls are beginning to sag, it’s time to look into non-invasive procedures as I am the best candidate for such treatments.

Have you ever bought a refurbished something? A phone, a hard drive, a computer or camera? They always seem to come with some sort of sticker that says “Lovingly refurbished by the fine folks at Apple” or something like that? What if once someone crossed the boundary into cosmetic procedures there was some sort of sticker or bracelet that declared “Lovingly refurbished by Dr. Zoots?” Not so we could judge them or the work they had done, but so we could feel a little less terrible about our stock model bodies and maybe learn about what we’d like to have done ourselves? Maybe?

I wish I could say with absolute certainty that I love my body, because most days I do — but sometimes it betrays me. Genetics have landed me a pretty sweet set of undereye bags and cellulite worthy of a dozen cottage cheese jokes. I grow chin hairs, nipple hairs, neck hairs and there’s even a few dark ones that pop out on my cheeks. I’ve never had, nor will I ever have thighs that don’t touch or knees that aren’t extra padded.

Have you seen the ‘Tootsie’ interview with Dustin Hoffman about when  he realized he didn’t make a very pretty girl and no matter what had been done to him, nothing would have made him what he considered to be attractive? I had this big moment after watching that for the first time where I realized I never have been, nor will I ever be considered a whole host of what are considered desirable female attributes by society — and with body parts spreading out and heading a little further South each year I’m never going to be.

And that’s okay.

I’m not terrible. I have really good eyelashes, really good hair, a pretty good neck, amazing (all natural) boobs and petite little wrists.

I’ve started telling my daughters I’m beautiful” is one of the best things I’ve ever read on the Internet. It changed the way I look at myself and the way I talk about myself. I remember growing up thinking my mom was the most beautiful woman in the world, and I wanted to be just like her. With every derogatory thing she said about herself, she would shatter my realistic idea of ideal, which meant I had to find a new ideal — and guess what? The ideal I found in magazines and on TV was one I would never, ever be able to achieve without growing 6 inches, spending my life in a tanning bed and having several eating disorders.

With more and more people commenting that Addie looks just like a tiny me, I have to be even more mindful about how I carry myself in front of my daughters. I don’t ever want her to believe that my thighs, eye bags and soft belly are not ideal — because my thighs, eye bags and soft belly are closer to reality than anything she’ll ever see in the media — and they work just fine.

Walt Disney World Marathon

Last week I told her that there’s a very good chance that she’ll grow up to look just like me. (I was secretly terrified of what her reaction would be.)

Her reaction? “YAY! You’re the prettiest mommy in the whole world!”

Phew.

I’m doing something right.

(Please, don’t let me screw it up.)

 

Comments

  1. So perfect, honey.

  2. RookieMom Whitney says:

    Yes! You’re totally not screwing it up. Good reminder as I have a little mini me myself and we are not tall or blonde or pert-nosed. But we are damn cute.

  3. They spend their lives knowing and loving our features, so strange that we don’t do the same naturally.

    Huge props to you for doing the work to embrace all of you, you deserve to!

  4. I struggle with many of the things you mentioned here. My son asked me once why I was putting on lipstick (actually tinted lip gloss) and I said “to look pretty.” Now he feels the need to tell me how pretty I look all the time. I am glad he likes complimenting me, but I also want him to know he can let me know I am smart or funny or many other things. I remember an episode of ‘Wife Swap’ (pls dont’ judge my viewing habits haha) where the mom said she preferred to say her daughter looked ‘fancy’ when she dressed up. I like that…I want my son to know how beautiful he is to me for so many reasons. I hope to set a good example. Thanks for sharing!

  5. Love. Love. Love.

  6. PS. Addie is gorgeous and man o man do I envy that girl’s hair.

  7. when i was a kid i was constantly told that i looked exactly like my mom. even as i got older people would mistake old photos of my mom for photos of me. i always loved that, because i thought my mom was beautiful, especially when she was younger. as she (and i) got older, i started to get nervous about a lot of the same things you mention here: stray hairs, the genetic eye bags, and other cosmetic ‘stuff’ that plagued many of the women in my family.

    my mom was taken from me way too early…just this past summer when she was only 64. her loss has helped to shift how i feel about these perceived flaws, because i know that as i age–if i’m really lucky, and if i pay close attention when i look in the mirror–i just might get to see her again someday :)

  8. Sigh.

    You’re awesome. I mean, this is exactly what we need to be: comfortable in our own skin.

    My Mom never mentioned her outward appearance out loud because to her, it wasn’t important. I never once remember her saying something negative… Me, on the other hand, I live in the land of swimsuits and botox, it’s easy for me to compare myself. I remember that “comparison is the thief of joy” at least once a week.

    Boom. I am beautiful, too.

    I’m going to start saying it out loud.

    FANTASTIC post.

    And while I can’t speak to your wrists, I know your hair is incredible. And you’re funny, too. Which counts for something. :)

  9. I read something once that said, “Never say anything to yourself that you wouldn’t say to your best friend.” I remind myself of that advice every day. Not just about how I look but also when I make a mistake and call myself an idiot or whatever. My son is listening all the time and the things I say to myself are things he hears. These little lives we’re entrusted with are always listening.

  10. OMG the tears. Of course I would read this when I’m having ALL!THE!FEELS!, but it’s true.
    I have become acutely aware that my daughter most likely overhears me disagreeing with my BF when he tells me I’m beautiful, bemoaning the fact that I have to go to the gym for hours a day to be able to “eat what I want”, and complaining about being “fat”, and even if she does stay tall and skinny, I do not want to be the one that teaches her self-hate, because I know how much it hurts to wake up every day hating the body you have to occupy 24/7.
    Thank you.
    Also, you’re great.

  11. darn nipple hairs!

  12. I can totally relate! I have two mini me’s as well. I absolutely love your blog and completely understand your articles on depression. Please follow my blog as well! :)
    http://mommyinspiration.wordpress.com/

  13. We are our own worst critics. Because I look at you and only see gorgeous. Even with the piteche or whatever it was that you got when pregnant. Seriously.

    Also, the chin and neck hairs. I swear I have more than a teenage boy. :P

  14. I’m 32 and while I don’t love everything about my body I am proud of how it has carried me through these years. My Moma is still the most beautiful woman I know and I hope that I continue to look like her as I grow. You are doing good. Keep on keepin’ on!

  15. You ARE beautiful. You don’t have to fake it. ;)

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