Confessions of a Skinny Mom

“There comes a time when a woman needs to stop thinking about her looks and focus her energies on raising her children.  This time comes at the moment of conception.  A child needs a role model, not a supermodel.”  ~Astrid Alauda, on the “hot mom” trend.

Hi, my name is Yo Mama and I have a confession: I’m skinny.  Before you start sending me hate mail, you need to know being thin is not all it’s cracked up to be.  For starters, it is deceptive. Since I am small-boned, it gives the illusion that I am in better shape than I actually am. 

For example, when I was pregnant, I developed gestational diabetes. I now have a much higher risk of developing Type 2 diabetes later in life.  But who cares about Type 2 diabetes, as long as you can fit into skinny jeans, right?

Being slim also apparently means everyone gets permission to comment on your body.  It is inappropriate to tell someone, “Wow, you’re fat.”  However, if you are on the opposite end of the spectrum, you may as well have an invisible sign above your head with an arrow pointing down at you that says “Post your comment here.”

When I hear these comments, I often detect a note of envy, or worse, resentment.

But I am not immune to self-image issues.  It may be convenient to be petite in a society that values it (as opposed to this society, which views it as repulsive), but our culture also loves curves in certain places.  I have had toendure jokes about a non-existent rear end, or “boyish figure,"  as I like to put it, my entire life.

The bottom line is that childbirth and motherhood can wreak havoc on our bodies and the images of ourselves.

 Personally, I have not fretted this much about my appearance since high school.  I have started hearing about more and more moms who are shelling out small fortunes for cosmetic surgery. I am not judging what people want to do with their money, but I am concerned about why we feel the need to do what we are doing with our bodies. 

Why is it that women who have had the strength, perseverance and courage to endure nine months of pregnancy and 20-plus hours of labor— some, many times over—feel inadequate because of a number on a tiny tag attached to the back of their slacks? 

Why is it that women who have tirelessly worked to raise children of character and substance are haunted by thoughts that their valiant efforts are outweighed by the fact that they do not look like a Playboy bunny?

When will all of us learn that our self-worth as a woman is not dictated by numbers?  We look to the numbers on a scale, on a clothes rack, or on a bra tag for something that can only be found in who we are and what we  possess.

I think it is about time that mothers take pride in their bodies, no matter what shape or size they are.  When we do, I think a number of marvelous things will happen.  First, we will start taking better care of the bodies we already have, instead of longing for the ones we wish we had.  Subsequently, not only will we feel better, but we will probably look better too. 

Second, we will become free to focus on the things that are more significant to our children.  My kids never say to me, “For heaven’s sake, mom, will you put on some makeup?”  They always say, “Will you play with me?” or some variation on that theme.  They love me for who I am—their mother—not what size I wear or what I look like.

Lastly, and I think most importantly, we will set better examples for our children, especially our daughters. 

I will never forget the time a dear friend shared with me the scars she bore from years of observing her mother’s constant critical evaluation of her own body.  A former beauty pageant finalist and one of the most gorgeous women I have ever known, she said that although her mother never overtly disparaged her appearance, she learned the same destructive habits of self-criticism from her mom, to the point that she developed an eating disorder.

If we can set aside our own pursuits of vanity and find our significance in more fulfilling places, we will not only be filled with more joy, we will have enough to share with our children.