An Eyeopening Conversation About Beauty with My Four Year Old

Today Issa, who is four years old, wanted to play dress up.  This is no different than any other day.  What is different is that she wanted to put on lipstick.  I told her no and she began to cry. She was sitting in the floor, arms crossed, bottom lip sticking out, alligator tears rolling down her cheeks.  I let her cry.  A few minutes later she went off to play and forgot all about the lipstick.

While she was playing her father and I pulled up Dove Evolution on YouTube and linked it to the television.  Then I pulled up some images on my computer:  Disney Princesses, female celebrities at the Oscars, Hanna Montana, Cinderella, Adele, an obese woman in a bikini, and a pinup photo of myself that was published in a magazine.

We called Issa into the living room and asked her what she thought "beauty" was.  She said she did not know.  So we asked her what was "beautiful" or "pretty".  "Princesses!" she responded.

So I began pulling up the photos.  I asked her if she thought each photo was beautiful and then I asked what made that person beautiful.  I wrote down what she said.  Her answers made me heartsick.  I nearly cried at one point.  I held it together and continued the conversation though.  Here are the photos and what my FOUR YEAR OLD CHILD said. Note:  I did not change her words. This is exactly what she said, completely unprompted.

Disney Princesses
 Beautiful:  Yes.

Why: 

*pretty dresses

*stuff on their eyelids (she meant eyeshadow)

*shoes

*crowns

Hannah Montana
 Beautiful: Yes.

Why:

*pretty shirt with beautiful buttons

*beautiful BLUE eyes

*dark eyelashes

*her lipstick

Cinderella
 Beautiful: Yes

Why:

*Her dress has sparkles.

*crown

*rings (I don't see any rings either)

Women at the Oscars
Beautiful: Yes

Why:

*dresses

*lipstick

*That one (pointing to Halle Berry) has brown skin like me!

*THEIR SIZE

Kenneth, who had been quiet up until this point, drew in a sharp breath when he heard our child say "Their size."  I did too.  I blinked back tears and just kept going.

 

Adele
Issa: Who is that?
Me:  (shows her youtube video of Adele singing)
Beautiful: Yes.

Why:

*her dress

*HER VOICE

*her hair

Random larger woman in a bikini

Issa:  She is REALLY FAT, but she's still pretty.

Why:

*her bathing suit is pretty

Me

This one was the hardest one for me to hear. Or at least I thought it was.....just keep reading.

Beautiful:  Yes.

Why:

*flower in your hair

*lipstick

*dress

*hair is pretty

*eyebrows

*eyes (pointing to my fake lashes)

 Me, right now.  I am still in my pajamas.  I have a trashcan in front of me because I have been throwing up since 6 AM.  I am obviously not wearing any makeup, and I am ashamed to admit I have not even bathed yet today.  I have a pimple in the middle of my forehead (thank you hormones), and another one popping up on my chin.  This is what I look like today.

Me:  What about me, right now?  Just the way I look right now?  No makeup on, and nothing like that picture.

Issa: You're still beautiful.

Me: Why?

Issa: Um......BECAUSE I LOVE YOU! I REALLY, REALLY LOVE YOU!

Ouch. LOL.  Okay.  At least she's honest!

So I nodded and said I loved her too.  Then we showed her the Dove Evolution video and paused it at the beginning, in the middle, and then after they edited the model's face for the billboard.  We explained to Issa that all of that was fake.  I rewound the video to the beginning and paused it.  I asked her to look at it.  I fastforwarded to the billboard shot and paused it again.  

Me:  Is that what this lady looked like at the beginning?

Issa:  shakes her head no

Me:  They changed her face, didn't they?

Issa:  Yes.

Me:  Do you think that's a good thing?

Issa: Yes.

Me:  shakes my head no

Issa:  looks confused

Me:  No, baby.  It's not a good thing.  That is not her real face.  That's not what she really looks like, is it?

Issa:  No.

Me: Would you want someone to do that to your picture?

Issa:  throws her hands up in the air in an I don't know gesture

Me:  I wouldn't.  I'm your mama and I love your face just the way it is.  I would be really mad if someone did that to your picture because I love you just the way you are. I bet that lady has a mommy and her mommy is mad too.  What do you think?

Issa:  Yeah. Her mommy likes her face like it really is.

Me:  Yes.

Then we asked Issa what she loves about people besides the way they look.  She had a really hard time coming up with answers.  This is what she finally came up with:

*I love daddy because he's silly.  But daddy's not beautiful.

*because they're nice

*because they care

Then we talked to Issa about "beauty on the inside" and what is in people's hearts.  We told Issa all the reasons we love her and we did not once say anything about what she looks like.  Issa started to cry.  

Me:  Why are you crying, Issa?

Issa:  'Cause!

Me:  Okay, well I can't help you if you can't tell me why.

Issa:  Just because.

Me:  Are you crying because you didn't realize people could be beautiful because what is on the inside?

Issa:  Yes, 'cause people can be pretty on the inside.

I hate that she cried.  I hate that she has already learned to be so focused on appearance.  We talked a long time about how what is on the inside is more important than what is on the outside.  We talked a long time about why she loves people--the real reasons, not the superficial ones.  I think we got through.  I think we will probably have to have this conversation again, later in her life.  I think we will have to have this conversation in different ways over and over again for the rest of her life.

I think it is sad that we will have to, but it is necessary.  It is necessary because I do not want my daughters to ever think their values lie in the beauty of their face.  I want them to know their value lies in their intelligence, their sense of humor, their talents, their love, their compassion, their empathy.  I want them to know their value lies in who they are, not what size they are.  I will do everything in my power to make sure my girls know that, know it with their whole beings. 

Skin

When I was a child my grandmother used to tell me that beauty was only skin deep.  She didn't want me to be conceited or superficial.  She strove to teach me that a woman's worth lies in her intelligence and her compassion, not in boobs and a pretty face.  In middle school when I had to start dressing out in gym class and I came home embarrassed because I didn't want the other girls to realize how painfully flat chested I was she said, "Those girls might make fun of you for not having boobs, but remember boobs will only get a woman so far in life.  Intelligence will get you further than any set of big boobs ever will." I thought she was crazy.  I didn't want to get far in life.  I just wanted a nice set of hooters. Eventually, these lessons she tried so hard to teach me would stick though and I would know she was right.

My grandfather was equally influential.  He wanted me to know that a good man would want me for my mind and he told me more than once that I didn't need a man to go far.  He would say, "Pumpkin, you can do it all on your own.  You're smart.  Men are dumb."  When my first high school boyfriend broke my heart by cheating on me it was my grandpa who told me to dry up those tears. He said, "Any boy dumb enough to let you go doesn't deserve you. You're too smart to sit here crying over a dumbass."  He was right.

We all go through awkward phases, times when we're just not comfortable in our own skin.  In middle school I had acne.  Little red dots decorated my forehead.  I was fully convinced I resembled a connect the dots sheet.  It was awful.  Most of the other girls in my class developed early and had giant knockers by the time we were 13.  I was flat as a board and thin as a rail.  I didn't weigh 90 pounds until high school.

The summer before heading to freshman year my acne cleared up and I began to discover I was pretty. Lots of people thought I was pretty.  I was fairly self confident for a teenage girl.  However, I remained self conscious about certain aspects of my appearance.  I was still incredibly thin and mostly boobless.  While other girls my age worried about being fat I tried to pack on the pounds, convinced if I could just gain a little weight I'd suddenly have Marilyn Monroe sized breasts.  I never did gain weight (or get big ol' boobs).  The day I graduated high school I weighed 98 pounds. 

College brought new challenges.  Other girls thought I should wear makeup--something I never did much of even in high school.  Some girls thought I should wear lower cut shirts.  Uh hello--I've got no "assets" to show off there.  No low cut shirts for me!  Some of my fellow classmates wanted me to pledge sororities with them.  I refused.  I told one girl I thought the sorority girls were "vapid." She then informed me that I "talked funny" and I was "too smart".  I had a few other girls give me helpful advice---I should be dumber.  Apparently boys didn't want smart girls.

Fortunately for me, I had 18 years of my grandparents' voices in my head telling me intelligence trumped beauty.  I had also developed a self confidence associated with my intelligence instead of my looks by this point.  I didn't take any of the above listed advice. I went to my 8 AM classes in my pajamas.  I only wore makeup on stage in theatrical productions.  I never pledged a sorority.  Instead I earned my way into three honors societies, two of which claimed former presidents as members. 

As an adult, I have seen some women skate by on their looks.  These women get ahead in ways I consider unethical.  It used to infuriate me.  Then one day I realized something. These women will eventually lose their smooth skin and their giant breasts will one day sag.  What will they do then?  When outward beauty has deserted them and they are left not knowing how to survive simply on their own intelligence?  Now I pity them.

I am 27 years old now.  I have learned that true beauty is not skin deep. True beauty has nothing to do with what your skin looks like--it has to do with being comfortable in your own skin. True beauty shines forth from your soul.  True beauty is evident in the selflessness of your actions, in your compassion for the other living things on this planet.  True beauty is a good sense of humor, a crisp autumn day, and a good glass of wine shared with friends who make you smile.  True beauty is love and sorrow and laughter and tears and death and life and everything in between.

Photoshop Your Self-Esteem Not Your Image...

The rise of obesity in America has brought issues concerning self-esteem and body image to light, but these issues are not new issues.  Self esteem and body image concerns have been plaguing teenagers (and yes, adults) for a long time.  The difference is that teens today have photoshopped images of models staring at them from the pages of magazines.  I'm here to tell you that those models absolutely do NOT look like that in real life. 

There is  a great video from Dove.  It shows the process of airbrushing and "photo-editing" advertisements for billboards.  I can't figure out how to embed it, so I'll just post the link here--watch it. Seriously. Click the link. NOW. 

Ok now that you're back from watching that fabulous video, I can continue.

I could talk about fake pictures and fake people for the entire post, but I won't.  Instead I think I'll talk about me.  We all have body image issues.  We all look in the mirror and see things no one else would ever notice. 

Take me for example.  This is me at age 20 (I looked exactly the same when I was 16--seriously, ask my friends):

This photo was taken on my honeymoon.  I weighed the exact same weight the day I got married at age 20 as I did at age 16.  I weighed a whopping 95 pounds.  Yes, really.  I ate all the time.  I tried to gain weight.  I just never did.  Everyone else looked at me and saw a beautiful, thin girl.  I saw a stick with no boobs, frizzy hair, and glasses.

Let me repeat that:  I saw a stick with no boobs, frizzy hair, and glasses. 

Maybe you're skinny like I was and you look in the mirror and wish for a magic wand that will make your boobs two cup sizes bigger.  Maybe you're chubby and you wish you were skinny like girls like me--and you don't realize girls like me are staring at your boobs with jealousy wishing we had them.

You also probably don't realize that there is a boy or a girl in your school--the one who smiles at you every day in the hallway--who thinks your smile is the prettiest smile in the world. 

You don't realize that even the "pretty girls" or the "hot boys" look in the mirror and see things they wish were different. 

You don't realize that your best friends think you are gorgeous, are jealous of the way your laugh sounds, and do not care if you have a pimple the size of Mt. Saint Helens on your nose.

You don't know that one day you will meet someone who doesn't care if you have the flu and look like this:

Yes, that's me.  Today.  I have the flu.  I have bags under my eyes, no make up on, and wet hair (I just got out of a hot shower). My husband thinks I'm beautiful anyway.

If you look closely you'll notice that one eye is slightly bigger than the other.  I had surgery on my right eye when I was twelve years old and I can see that it looks just a little bit different than the left one.  No one else seems to notice.

I have the fair skin of the Irish and as a result I have freckles on my nose.  My nose also has a bump in the middle from a fist fight I got into with a boy twice my size.  I was ten.  He said something nasty about my brother.  I clobbered him.  We bloodied each other's noses (and he also walked away with a black eye). I have the bump to prove it.

I could never afford braces so I have a snaggle tooth.  I used to practice smiling with my mouth closed so other people wouldn't notice. 

Then I met a boy the first day of high school and he told me he loved my smile.  His name was Eric.  Now I always smile with my teeth showing.  He was right--my smile is beautiful just the way it is. Now I can afford braces and I don't want them.

My face tells the story of my life.  I embrace it.  It's who I am.  It's the first thing others see when they look at me, and they might not know the story behind every wrinkle, every bump, every scar--but I do. 

My face is a map of my memories.  Eric is gone now, but I see him every time I smile.