I’m recovering from my loss of appetite. Here’s how I help my daughter navigate body image:

My daughter Madeline was 18 months old when she was the first time she was standing in front of a full-length mirror. She was wearing a Snoopy Onesie and her strawberry blonde hair was tied up in a miniature ponytail. She leaned forward and kissed the mirror, leaving a mark on her lips. She then stopped and praised the girl staring at her.

“iiiii! iiiii! iiiii!” She trilled with a small wave of her hands.

She was too young to pronounce “H” but old enough to greet herself with a smile, pushing her pale cheeks up to the bottom of her hazel eyes. I was in awe of how much she seemed to admire her reflection. And I didn’t remember at the end that I really loved mine.

My mirror views have been tainted and have sometimes been shattered since my mother passed away. She passed away from breast cancer when I was 11 years old. I didn’t know how to deal with it. I tried to make my body smaller. I believed that if I had stayed the same size as when my mother died, I would somehow remained close to her. Within a year, I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa. This is a disorder that has taken over my body and mind to the point I believe my disability defines me.

I’ve been thinking a lot about these parts of my past in February. This shows both the 28th anniversary of the mother’s death and the daughter’s nineth birthday. As my daughter approaches the same age as when she developed anorexia, I do everything I can to protect her from developing the same disorder that she still recovers after these years I want to do it.

For Madeline’s ninth birthday, she drew a mirror in the shape of a flower, with a wooden frame. For each petal, I wrote words to explain how I view her – kind, creative, clever, brave, determined, curious, empathetic, animal. She’s a beloved girl. I want Madeline to see more than “beautiful” in the mirror and in life. I want her to know that her self-worth depends not on what she looks like, but who she is. I want this for my 7 year old son too.

Still, I know that my kids are likely to have a bad body image day. It is almost impossible in a society that is tainted with diet culture (a system of belief that promotes limitations and low value) and fat phobia (a widespread form of oppression that demonizes people with a greater body);

Research suggests that most men and women feel somewhat unhappy about their bodies. It can be more standard than exceptions (a phenomenon known as “normative grievances”). This complaint began early, and a quarter of teenage girls and teenage girls from a study showing half of teenagers dined in hoping to change their bodies.

When I was a teenager in the pain of food restriction, all the mirrors were cruel optical illusions. The smaller the more my reflection looked. I couldn’t see myself as anyone else could, and this distorted image made me feel deeply detached. When I was treated in the late 1990s, I slowly learned to see myself differently. I now lead these lessons into parenting, focusing on physical neutrality and celebrating what my child’s body can do in contrast to what my child’s body can do. Another way to think about this is that the body is not an ornament, but an instrument.

“I think one of our cultural defaults is that we somehow look whole or a large part of who we are,” says journalist and podcaster. Elise Who told me. “Talking about catchphrases like this challenge that default and remind us that our bodies serve our emotions, sensations and purpose in doing things.

I try to raise my child with this in mind, but the message I want to share doesn’t always align with social reality. When I hear my daughter want to wear eyeshadow, it makes her eyes look beautiful, so I answer from time to time. What’s important is what lies inside! ”

I say this with hesitation. Appearance wasn’t important as far as I would like, but they often do. For decades, research has shown that physically attractive people are often perceived as more intelligent, dominant, sociable and mentally healthy.

“We have a lot of influence on children, but we have to be realistic in that our children absorb the culture around us no matter what,” Hu told me. . “And to say, ‘Hey, your looks don’t matter’, a lot of what they observe in their lives is that they’re pretty and people who don’t measure have privileges. A particular appearance norm is deemed unjust or marginalized. ”

So, how do we consider this? Part of this will challenge ways to overestimate the appearance. As parents, we can model good behavior and do our best to ensure that our words fit our actions. Our kids tell us that weight isn’t an issue, but if we see us weigh twice a day, we send a messy message.

I have a chance that women who still live with traces of my eating disorder and who have anorexia relatives may develop the disorder themselves compared to individuals with no family history. I often think about this as a mother who reads research showing that it is twice as high. I feel the pressure to have a positive impact on her environment, knowing that I can’t influence my daughter’s genes is immeasurable.

Sometimes I raise my child with the hypocrisy of wanting my child to respect his body and knowing that I am not always able to do the same thing. I have quite a few bad body image days, but I never mean to talk negatively about my body in front of children. I intend to see not only my kids “made me a doll” but also those who styled, dressed up and put on makeup, but also “I dressed down.” It’s there. No clothes or makeup.

I am also trying to teach my children what I learned as a child. That weight stigma is common and problematic. We don’t often see our bodies or other bodies as problems as we show our children that weight stigma is a social problem.

My husband and I are trying to celebrate the diversity of our bodies by going back to books, films and TV shows and exposing our children to television shows that reflect different body sizes and shapes. However, when you see a cartoon of Madeline with a character with a body with an unrealistic and idealized proportion, it can inevitably grow. At these moments, I try to spark a conversation about how the character’s bodies look so different from what you see in the world. I remind my daughter and son that no matter how short or tall, how big or small, all bodies deserve dignity and respect.

I don’t even know if my message is sinking half the time, or if they’ve heard it. But I like to think it will help my children to reduce the likelihood that they will develop an eating disorder over time. I’ve never seen warning signs or heard my children criticize their bodies. But my daughter told me that her classmates were talking about her.

If this happens, I’ll try to listen and ask questions. “Shaming thrives in the shadows, and if you don’t talk about things, it grows and flourishes,” says Ginny Jones, founder of Moir-love.org, an online resource that supports parents of children with eating disorders. states. “So, if your child comes to you and says, ‘I feel bad about my body’ – they talk about their belly and their feet, their hair, and their earlobes I think it’s just something to say whether or not you’re there or not.”’I’m glad you talked to me about this. Tell me more, “And let them talk about it.”

Getting closer to these conversations with curiosity and compassion helps create an environment in the home where children feel safe talking about their bodies rather than ignoring them or shutting them down.

Michelle Albers, a registered dietitian specializing in eating disorders, likes to remind patients that parts of our bodies are born and cannot be changed. “When kids say, ‘I don’t have the right hair, skin, eyes, curves, etc.’ they see it as a personal failure,” says Tampa Bay. Albers said. “I wonder if we’re looking for too much of someone who says, ‘I want you to love what you see in the mirror’?” ”

Jones thinks: “Love is emotion. Love is also a verb. When I say I love my body, it’s not that I’m standing in the mirror and saying, “I love how I look!” What I’m saying is I’m getting enough sleep. I’m feeding my body. I’m moving my body. I treat my body like I love it. ”

This approach is appreciated as a recovering woman and as a mother.

“What do you think?” I asked Madeline after giving her a mirror of flowers for her birthday.

“I really like it, mom!” she said with a smile at her nine-year-old self. I stood by her, admiring those hazel eyes and strawberry blonde hair. Then I saw my reflection. When I was not older than Madeline, I could only see myself as an “anorexic girl.” Well, at this point in my recovery, I know there are a lot more.

I am the wife of a husband who loves me for who I am, the mother of two strong-willed children, and the mother-daughter who is proud of how far I have made. I am a woman who can see my reflection in a full-length mirror of life, dirt, etc., and can thank the girl I used to be and the woman I became. Who can look at themselves and say “Hello.”

Mallary Tenore Tarpley is a professor of journalism at the University of Texas at Austin. Her debut non-fiction book, Slip: Life in the Midd the Midd the Midd of The Midd, was released in August and is now available for pre-order. She wrote this column for the Tampa Bay Times.