My little feminist in the making

First, I want to thank you for your comments and e-mails in response to my post about not feeling pretty anymore; they definitely helped me feel better. I really appreciate how supportive and encouraging you all are.

What made me feel even better happened yesterday.

I took Carina with me to grab the mail and then plopped her down on her play mat while I made myself a cup of tea. When I came back, this is what I found.




I had put the mail down next to her, and she picked up the Victoria's Secret catalog. I should have thrown it out since I'm not in the market to purchase a lift-my-boobs-up-to-my-chin bra or a so-short-you-can-see-my-hoo-ha skirt, and looking at the perfectly airbrushed models would only depress me, but then I remembered that I promised my left boob that I would buy it a luxurious brassiere once I'm done nursing. So I kept it and planned to look through it while I drank my cup of tea and Carina played on her mat.



I imagine this to be Carina's don't even think about it! face. Here was my 9 month old baby girl, unknowingly protecting me from something that would surely make me feel crappy about myself. Well done, sweetie.



That wasn't all. She proceeded to rip apart the catalog, page by page. I just watched and laughed...at the situation, and at myself.



As she further shredded up {and tried to eat} the catalog, it hit me. She isn't going to tear up the Victoria's Secret fake boob and botox parade forever. Someday she might look at the women airbrushed models in there and want to look like them, or feel insecure that she doesn't measure up. What kind of example am I setting when I page through with a frown of envy and self-consciousness? She doesn't understand it now, but she will in the future. Time to change my attitude - for her sake, and my own.

I'm pretty because I'm real. I am not airbrushed. I have not been enhanced or corrected. Parts of my arms and legs that might look bigger or wider than the ideal have not been uncharacteristically lopped off in order to make myself look more attractive. Those are things of which I can be proud, and I hope that Carina will be, too.

I think I feel pretty again, all thanks to my little girl and her literal destroying of the unrealistic and unfortunate standard of beauty to which we've all become accustomed. Rock on, Carina.