Posts Tagged ‘body image’

A friend sent this to me earlier this week and I chuckled the entire time I was reading. While the subject matter may be a little unorthodox, how awesome is Sophie to have the confidence to stand up and give a speech on how her body functions. If only all little girls were that comfortable with their bodies.

Enjoy!

Today begins a new series on our blog: The Body Image Workshop.

Last month I had a little piece of my heart break when I received two emails in the same day, one from the mom of a preschooler who had already developed body image issues, and the other from a pregnant mom, scared for her unborn daughter’s future body image issues. My head was spinning. Both moms needed info and resources and I sent some their way, but I had a hard time putting my head around the fear of an unborn girl’s body image. I had a hard time putting my head around why that is such a legitimate fear. Because it is.

I called my friend and colleague Marci Warhaft-Nadler, a certified fitness instructor and body image consultant, and asked if she would help me. I needed someone who would help me dig deep, really push the issue, unpack the numbers, and get underneath this massive rock of body image that sits on top of our daughters. Marci and I are both raising sons, and boys will be included in this series as well. But when you look at the numbers that reflect what is going on in with our girls, it is enough to make you want to scream. Or cry. Or both.

We MUST create a meaningful change. And we must do it now.

Hopefully this isn’t affecting your family, these posts will get low viewership, and Marci and I can focus our efforts elsewhere. Something tells me that is not going to be the case.

Marci and I care deeply about all of our kids. We’re going to be honest. We’re going to really dig into this issue. We’re not going to pull our punches. We’re going to give you the tools and resources you need. We might say things that sting, we might say things you disagree with. We’re going to pull in medical and nutrion experts. We’ll talk to authors and psychologists. We’re going to give you printouts and talking points. Not generics, but specific go-try-this-today info. We’re going to give you the chance to be the expert bloggers and give us tips on what you do in your homes. We’re going to give you the chance to ask questions and talk to experts directly. For free.

You have no idea how much energy Marci and I have on this subject. We’re going to get this thing done. And we’re going to do it right here.

Buckle up, here comes Part 1: A Parent’s Guide To Talking About Body Image – Age 0-3

by: Marci Warhaft-Nadler

The facts are beyond disturbing.

Recent studies show that boys and girls as young as 5-years-old are struggling with body image. Day after day, they are bombarded with messages from the media, society, peers as well as a number of other sources, telling them that they aren’t good enough, smart enough, attractive enough and certainly not THIN enough. As a result, more and more kids are putting their health and lives at risk by engaging in dangerous behaviors to attain what they THINK is the ideal physique.

The scary truth:

80% of 10 year olds HATE their bodies

25% of 7 year olds have already tried dieting

Eating Disorders in kids under 12 years old rose 119% over the last 9 years

42% of 1st, 2nd and 3rd graders want to be thinner by the time a girl is 17 years old, she’s seen approximately 250, 00o messages from the media telling her what she’s supposed to look like.

Gaining weight is the #1 FEAR of teenage girls, over losing their parents or getting cancer.

In 1970, the average age a woman started dieting was 14 years old, by 1990 the average age was 8 years old.

As parents, we want to protect our children from the superficial and often judgemental world that awaits them, but it’s a task that can feel somewhat overwhelming. Here’s the good news: There is A LOT we can do, starting from the minute we bring our babies home, to empower them with strong, healthy self-esteem and to help them grow up with the self-confidence they deserve.

How do we get started?

0-3 years old:

When our kids are this young, we are pretty much in control of their environment. We control what they see and hear, and this definitely works to our advantage. Here are a few suggestions to help create the kind of environment that will help our kids grow up loving who they are, instead of judging who they think they’re not:

1)  ROLE MODELLING

I cannot say this strongly enough. Little girls learn SO MUCH about how to treat themselves by watching their moms (and sisters and grandmas and aunts). It is crucial that daughters see their mothers being kind and accepting of themselves. This can take work, because it’s become almost second nature to criticize our jiggly arms or round tummies and we don’t realize that these seemingly harmless comments are anything but harmless. As silly as it may feel sometimes, make a point of complimenting yourself, out loud, on a daily basis. Challenge yourself to do so in creative ways. For example: Feel free to look in the mirror and proudly say, “I LOVE my arms because I use them to lift and hug my baby, to roll out cookie dough and maybe even do a few push ups!” and, “I LOVE my thighs because I use them to dance with my baby and walk through the park!”

{Melissa adds: Say to baby:  “Oh! Look at your strong legs climb the steps!”  or “Let’s wash those busy arms and feet!”  or “Does it feel good to have a tummy full of healthy food?”  or  “Big girl! Look how much you’ve grown since Christmas!”   or  “Can your strong arms help me clean up the toys/rake the leaves/walk the dog?”.  Your little ones won’t understand the concept of ‘healthy food’ or how much time has passed since Christmas, but they will understand your tone of voice and attitude as you set a framework for how your family will view body image.}

By doing this, your daughter will grow up loving her body for what it can DO, not judging it for how it looks.

The BEST part of this exercise, is that by committing to just a few seconds of self-appreciation every day, you’ll see your OWN self-esteem increase as well!

2) IMAGE-PROOF your home

We’ve all heard of Baby-proofing our homes, the act of removing any potential dangers our babies may come into contact with; we plug electrical outlets, soften sharp table edges and lock cupboard doors. Well, now we can also Image-Proof our homes by clearing out the negative messages and replacing them with positive ones. It’s a pretty simple exercise actually, just look around your house for magazines, books, posters or anything that promotes the unrealistic images of beauty that surround us today. Even though, kids this young aren’t reading yet, they are soaking in everything they see around them and we need to make sure that what they see is helpful and not harmful.

Keep in mind, I’m not suggesting that we can put blinders on our kids and keep them from ever seeing the evils of the beauty obsessed world we live in; but the fact is, if we can show our kids examples of beauty in all shapes, sizes and forms from the time that they are very little, they will be better armed to deal with the superficial and critical messages that start coming their way as they get older. A big part of the body image problem, is that kids see impossibly perfect models on TV and in magazines and then compare themselves to these images and walk  away feeling inadequate, like they just don’t measure up. However, if they have already seen beauty in a variety of forms, it will be easier to understand that the problems aren’t with their own bodies, but with the ones they are seeing on TV.

{Melissa adds: Use family photos of past and present to decorate your home…like where that stack of fashion magazines used to be. Teach your children that beauty is passed down through families, not by marketers and Photoshop.}

3) Make your home FAT TALK – FREE

We already know how important it is to avoid criticizing ourselves in front of our kids, but we need to extend that to guests in our homes as well. Kids hear everything, they take it in, process it and then, oftentimes, repeat it. Make sure that people who visit your home understand that any kind of fat or diet talk is not appreciated. It sounds strange, but there are a lot of people, who can’t go one full day without mentioning the calorie content of something they’ve eaten or making reference to their desire to lose weight.

{Melissa adds: The number one offender that I hear about all of the time is Grandma. We’ll have a post on this coming up.}

Remember, our  focus should be on function over esthetics. We need to teach our kids to love WHO they are, because if they grow up liking and respecting themselves, they will make better choices in all aspects of their lives.

The negative messages our children get from the media and society are strong, but that just means that our positive messages as parents, have to be even STRONGER.

Self-Worth should not be measured in pounds!

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Melissa here: See? That was easy and painless. Three sure-fire steps you can take with your itty bitty to get your family started on the right foot. Are your kids older? Still works! And? You can start doing this today. Right now! Go! Go pitch that Victoria Secret catalog and Vogue. Chuck it. Go find a photo of your grandma when she was 24. She was gorgeous. Your daughter has her eyes. Focus on that. Define beauty for yourself.

We can do this. Together.

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Marci Warhaft-Nadler is a certified fitness instructor and body image consultant. After overcoming her own body image and eating disorder issues, Marci created her Fit vs Fiction program to tear down the dangerous myths related to beauty and fitness and empower kids with the self-esteem they need to tune out negative messages and be proud of who they are instead of judging themselves for who they think they’re not. 

Self-Worth should NOT be measured in pounds!

www.fitvsfiction.com

facebook.com/visitfitvsfiction

fitvsfiction.wordpress.com

marciwarhaft@rogers.com

A Guest Post by: Lori Day

Sarah and Poppy Burge, infamous beauty-obsessed mother/daugther duo.

Was this a fluky experience? I think so. The lunch area being comprised of all moms and daughters was unusual. The fact that all eight girls were wearing all pink was unusual—I mean, girls wear a lot of pink these days and it definitely is “the uniform,” but there are usually some girls wearing purple at the very least, or even some other colors. (Although, if you’ve never noticed this degree of little-girl pink- ubiquity, start paying attention in public places like malls, airports and food co-ops!)

The fact that two of the eight girls were wearing Disney costumes out to Costco and it was not Halloween or a dress-up birthday party seemed a tad above the usual ratio.

Taken all together, the amount of pink in the form of tulle, satin, glitter, make-up, kitten heels, and little girl bling was highly concentrated in space and time. But you know what? That’s what made me realize that culturally, we now have somewhat of an alliance between princess culture and mommy culture. Executive summary: For a lot of our daughters, the real world of girls and the Disney World marketed to girls have become the same thing.

Yesterday’s post about the invisible girl with the book came about from a question Melissa Wardy asked during a discussion on the Pigtail Pals’ Facebook page about why parents stopped questioning all of the tremendous changes in what is marketed to girls over the last ten years and how it is marketed:  

I believe that many parents have stopped questioning because they, too, are desensitized by our 24/7 media-saturated culture in which the value of females lies less in what they do than in how they look while doing it. Perhaps in these hard economic times, the fantasy that your child is the fairest in the land—or could be with the right focus on her appearance—seems normal, and even beneficial, in the eyes of those parents who do not spend much time intellectually contemplating the commodification of female beauty.

Perhaps parents also stopped questioning because there can be tremendous enjoyment and camaraderie in shared beauty play for females, young and old. Moms usually have the best of intentions. They are supporting each other, acknowledging each other’s children, expressing femininity, and having a great time together being girly. On the face of it, there is nothing wrong with this, and it has always been this way to some degree…just not to this degree.

My concern is with the amount of focus our society now places on female appearance, the enormous multi-billion dollar industry that has grown up around it, and the necessary insecurities these corporations must instill in females, from a very young age, in order to turn them into lifetime consumers. Personally, I advocate for a deeper consideration of these issues by all parents, but I also recognize that a whole lot of parents really like things the way they are, and believe that good parenting will take care of it all, despite the research that has emerged on the tremendous number of hours of powerful marketing and media messages kids consume every single day.

I think it’s like rolling dice. Remember when it was legal to advertise smoking? Strong parents sometimes managed to raise children who did not smoke. But the millions of dollars spent on the seductive advertising campaigns for cigarettes was a Siren call to many kids who did all, eventually, leave the close supervision of their parents and wander out into the big world where they consumed this advertising, and joined a peer group of kids who thought smoking was cool. What was needed was strong parenting and laws that forced the tobacco companies to recognize the harm to children (and adults) inherent in their marketing and profiteering.

So I think it all depends on how one views the world. If you are the kind of parent of who is inclined to look below the shiny surface of pop culture to understand the unhealthy role being played by money and corporations in the lives of girls and women, and are prepared to raise your daughter in ways that might occasionally make you look either out of touch or antagonistic to mainstream girl culture, then you will naturally question, question, question. If not, not.

While I hope more and more parents will go back to questioning, I equally hope that the vigilance and activism of advocacy groups like Pigtail Pals – Redefine Girly  and so many others (see the blog roll on my website for other recommended individuals and groups to follow who are working on making the world a better place for all children) will eventually change the ground rules for the marketers as did happen decades ago regarding the cigarette companies. Social change takes a long time and a lot of hard work by a lot of individuals, but it can happen, and I am proud to be a small part of this massive grassroots effort. What is at stake is nothing less than our girls’ future, and that is not something to gamble.

Poppy Burge, 7yo, received several vouchers for cosmetic surgeries for her 7th birthday.

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Lori Day

Image from clker.com, Rolera LLC

A Guest Post by Lori Day:

I never want to be accused of considering Costco a microcosm of the real world because I’d like to have less despair than that, but maybe there is something to be gained by cautiously extrapolating from that surreal environment to something essentially true about the culture we live in.

One day, in order to take a break from the crowds of people forming around the free food samples and the incredibly long lines snaking through the electronics aisle, I decided to indulge in a slice of cheese pizza and a diet Coke at the snack area. I sat at a table at the back, and soon noticed that there were three tables occupied by mothers with two or three daughters each. There were no dads and no sons on this particular day.

 When you eat lunch alone, it’s amazing what you see and hear and notice about your fellow human beings who do not know you are quietly people-watching them.  The first thing I observed was the way the girls were looking at each other. The mothers had not yet acknowledged each other, but the daughters were making friendly cross-table eye contact. Soon, the mothers noticed that the girls were around the same age and were interested in each other, and everyone exchanged pleasantries and it was really nice, and very different than the usual vibe of competitive drag racing with shopping carts that we had all just survived. I find even basic human decency moving when I encounter it at Costco.

I got up to get some extra napkins, and when I returned all of the mothers and daughters were engaged with each other. You know what? That was really cool. I was totally smiling. Then I suddenly noticed something that for no explicable reason (other than complete desensitization) I had previously failed to notice…that all eight girls of these three mothers were dressed head-to-toe in pink. I don’t mean that some of them had on jeans and a pink sweatshirt. Or a pink top and off-white skirt. I mean what I said—literally every girl wore no item of clothing that was not light pink, medium pink, dark pink, fuchsia or magenta, in some combination, with zero items of clothing in any other shade or hue. (Not on a hit-and-run anti-pink rant here, just articulating the phenomenal amount of that color that was present.)

Then, I realized what the mothers and daughters were all talking about…who was pretty, who looked “just like a princess,” who had the most beautiful hair, whose fingernail polish was the most gorgeous shade of pink, whose pink hair accessories were the loveliest, whose sparkly pink shoes were fanciest and like you’d wear to a ball, etc.

Honestly, this went on for longer than one could possibly imagine.  I had long since finished my meal and remained sitting there, sipping my soda, transfixed. Mothers were almost competing to out-compliment the beauty of each other’s girls. This is sweet and caring, isn’t it? Yes, for sure, but it is something else as well, and it became something else very quickly.

The youngest of all the girls, perhaps three or four, stood up. She was wearing a pink tulle skirt, like a tutu, but longer and able to flow and twirl. She smiled coyly at one of the other mothers, twirled around a few times holding the hem of her skirt, and then posed. I thought she was going to courtesy, but instead she put her hand n her hip and pushed her pelvis forward…waiting. Her own mother beamed as one of the other mothers exclaimed, “My, aren’t you the belle of the ball?”

Soon, all of the girls—that is, except one—got up and casually wandered between the tables, visiting each other, showing off their pink dresses and the Disney costumes a couple of them had worn that day, since Disney costumes are now just regular attire. They were sashaying, flipping their hair, pretending they were models, striking poses, giggling, and drinking in all of the mirth and effusive praise of the mothers, who were utterly delighted by the whole show. Costco’s warehouse lunch area had been transformed into a cement-floored catwalk for an impromptu Toddlers & Tiaras audition. The girls were having a wonderful time.

Except one. This girl was around seven or eight, and of a quieter, more introverted disposition. She had a book and was reading. I could not see the title, but it was fairly thick, and the girl seemed like she was very absorbed in it and probably a pretty good reader. She glanced up repeatedly from her book to watch the other girls—some older, some younger, one her sister—strutting, preening, and lapping up every “How beautiful!” Slowly, she pushed her book to the edge of the table where she was sitting and looked around. No one noticed. She whispered something to her mother, and her mother whispered something back.

Eventually, the girl slid the book back across her table, away from where the other girls were roaming the aisles between the tables. Now here’s where I wished I had a video camera. I will not have the words to describe this girl’s face. Crestfallen? Glum? Hurt? None of these work. Maybe…invisible. She looked like she felt invisible. She looked down at her clothes and up at the clothes of the other girls and back down at her own again. They were pink but not frilly. I realized they were what I would call play clothes, not dress-up clothes. She kept looking at the other girls getting all the attention with their swirling and twirling, knowing her own clothes would not do that.

She was ignored by all of the other girls and other mothers except her own. Apparently, her lack of proper attention to her own femininity was a tragedy for everyone else — innocent bystanders were being robbed in broad daylight of their God-given right to observe her in pink tulle, primping and sashaying in some big-box fashion show of this decade’s new essential girlwear.

I wanted to hug that girl, who is so much like my own daughter, and like I was as a child, and say, “Wow, that’s quite a book you’ve got there! What are you reading?”

Just at that moment the girl’s father came over, along with a boy who was clearly her brother. The boy had a Harry Potter book under his arm—that much was obvious. The father said to his wife, “I got a good spot out front. Are you ready to go?” The mother nodded and started to clean up the paper plates and soda cups on the table. The girl with the book got up and walked towards her dad. One of the other mothers said to her brother, “Wow, you’re a smart boy reading Harry Potter!”

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A big thank you to Lori Day for sharing her insightful experience with the Redefine Girly blog.

Tune in tomorrow for Part 2!

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Lori Day

Lori Day is an educational psychologist and consultant with Lori Day Consulting in Concord, MA, having worked previously in the field of education for over 25 years in public schools, private schools, and at the college level. She writes and blogs about parenting, education, children, gender, media, and pop culture. You can connect with Lori on Facebook, Twitter, or Google+.

Guest Post by Pigtail Pals Parent Community member Amanda T. She shares her preschool-aged daugther’s experience getting a make-over at a spa. In a closet.

My fun, adventurous, huge-hearted four-year-old, ‘M’, has her very first best friend. She will tell anyone with ears that ‘A’ is her “first friend that’s a girl and who does not live with us”.

We love A. She is just as fun, adventurous, and loving as our M. We love A’s parents, too, even though we only know them from preschool drop-off, pick-up, and the few events we’ve had so far (fellow Navy family, in a home with even more daughters than ours – instant kinship). I tell you this so you’ll understand how M and I came to end up in Pretty Pretty Princess Hell. I’m still not sure how to put what happened into words without getting ‘snippy’, so I’ll just tell you how our three hours went that Saturday afternoon – that way you never have to wonder what you’re (not) missing.

We arrived at the party location, and discover it’s not even a ‘spa/salon’, but a clothing store whose small stock room has been turned into a ‘party room’ for either Divas or Pretty Princesses, depending on the ages of the guests, I suppose. The guests for our party range from age 2 to 5. Surely this will be more cake and dress-up than holding still in a chair, right? M is hastily tied into a fluffy pink robe and her “please make it sooo tight and put the ribbons riiiight HERE” hairdo is smushed into a matching headband by a young lady proclaiming, “NOW you’re ready to get pretty!” (In my head: “Well, Miss Pretty, my kid’s hair WAS out of her face, and we got ‘pretty’ before we left the house.”)

M shoots me her first “What? Why?!” look of the afternoon. The kids are given chocolate fizzy water to soak their toes in, Kidz Bop is blaring from a boombox, Miss Pretty busies herself with new guests, I make small-talk with the other moms, and the pink-on-pink décor in this way-too-small room stops being nauseating for a little bit. An hour passes, and the girls have not been “allowed” to get up. There’s nowhere to walk if they DO get up. They are restless. The Other Cool Mom and I say so, out loud. Miss Pretty passes out magazines and practically coos, “Look at all the pretty ladies and their pretty hair and makeup! Aren’t they so pretty? Can you find some pretty girls?”

The Other Cool Mom and I look over and around the rolling carts of makeup and polishes: They’ve given 2, 4, and 5 year olds Glamour and Seventeen magazines. The Rage officially fills me. I am pleased to see M staring at an orange juice ad, and pointing out that the lady in the ad likes to run fast. Miss Pretty pops up and TURNS MY DAUGHTER’S PAGE, saying, “No, not HER. Find a pretty lady.”

M gives me a look that is only a teensy bit shy of the “What the HELL?!”.  The Rage is screaming inside my head. I, loudly, tell M that running so fast probably DOES make that lady feel pretty, and M and I smile at each other. Well, M smiles. I flat out smirk at Miss Pretty. The Other Cool Mom winks at me. Miss Pretty turns two other guests’ pages for them. M gets her nails painted blue and her toes are purple glitter.

Miss Pretty moves to do someone else’s nails, and stops mid-circle of party guests to sing and dance along with the radio, “Don’tcha wish your girlfriend was hot like me? Don’tcha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?”. Other Cool Mom, A’s dad, and I are the only grown-ups in the crowded party room at the time, and say – loudly – that maybe the song should be changed. Miss Pretty dances and sings. A’s dad asks – loudly – where the radio is. Miss Pretty shimmies to another 4 year old. The Rage takes over, and I cross the circle of chairs and tap her, “Let’s change the music, please. The only time we want our 4 and 5 year olds ‘hot’ is if they’re on the playground during Summer. Mm ‘kay?”

Miss Pretty puts on Miley Cyrus. A’s dad and Other Cool Mom smile, and we laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation. You’d think that was the worst of it, right? Of course not. This is only the second circle of Hell.

 We’ve got a way to go. M settled, waiting for her polish to dry, I step out of the cramped storeroom spa to admire the clothing and hair bands in the boutique storefront, guessing that cake and dress up would be next. After purchasing a gift for my nephew, I step back in to find the girls STILL SITTING. We got here at 2pm. It’s nearly 3:30! M looks worried, like she wants to come to me. She shoots me another “What? Why?!” look as oatmeal is offered to her. They are smearing oatmeal on the babies. For cryin’ out loud! Let them have cake! M refuses the ‘facial’, slumps into her chair, and looks like she may cry. She is uncomfortable, not ‘into’ this, and now asking A if there is cake to be had. I’m this close to making excuses and bolting, but she perks up when she sees the makeup another school chum has been plied with. It’s blue. It sparkles. It will wash off easily when we leave. Hooray for something that resembles ‘kid fun’ !

While the girls’ eyelids are being painted blue and purple, Other Mom and I find each other again. More moms and grandparents have showed up – and not only approve of, but are now riding the Pretty Pretty train. I spy a plaque on the wall and baffled, point to it and say, “I don’t get it. They painted it all cute like it’s…”

“Oh! Isn’t it darling?” says Other Cool Mom. WHAT? Did Other Cool Mom just say that? This sign is hot pink and black, with matching feathers coming off a mirror attached to what we call “a stripper shoe” with the words ‘High Maintenance’ above it all. And Other Cool Mom loves it, thinks it’s ‘darling’, even. I look at her like she’s turned green and sprouted antennae and finish my sentence, “I just don’t get it. They’ve got this decorated and nailed to the wall as if the label is a badge of honor. I’m not having it.” And so Other Cool Mom and I didn’t talk the rest of the day.

Back to the babies. They’re made up. They’re allowed to move around! There’s glitter spray – heavy duty stuff, not the cheap Halloween aisle kind. Miss Pretty grabs M’s arm, pulls her away from me, places one hand over her eyes and nose in a grasp hard enough to keep her from moving, and proceeds to practically bedazzle my baby’s head and half her party dress. M frowns. M just washed her hair this morning. M is not pleased. She looks right at Miss Pretty and tells her –before I can swoop in and be That Mom – “I didn’t say I needed glitters.” Miss Pretty places her hands on M’s shoulders and coos, “Aww! Don’t you want to be pretty? A pretty pretty princess? Everyone is doing it, see?”.

Oh, The Rage. Everything that comes out of this female’s mouth is just wrong. M looks at me. I look at her. She says to Miss Pretty, without a word from me, “Well, acting pretty is better.” But Miss Pretty doesn’t get it (imagine that!). The girls are dressing up now. M has spotted microphones – she has a small collection of microphones at home, ranging from plastic ones to a full-blown cordless karaoke mic. Two ‘pretty pretty princesses’ physically move M to cut in line. M wants to cry. I remind her to use manners and to say ‘excuse me, but I was here’, but she’s too timid, too uncomfortable, and getting mean-girl-looks from these 4 year olds. Four year olds!

She’s over it. She wants to go home. But we love A. A is her best gal. A is loving that M is there. M clings to A, and waits for her turn. “I don’t want this gloves. I just want only this microphone”, she tells Miss Pretty’s companion. “Oh no! Pretty Princesses wear gloves!” exclaims the companion. 

“Oh, I just wanted to be the rock star. I’m a rock star. I had blue hair for Halloween,” M informs the woman.

“No. You can’t be a rock star. A rock star is not as pretty and good as a pretty princess.”

Can you FEEL The Rage? My already uncomfortable daughter is being forced into gloves (She hates gloves, mittens, long sleeves). She concedes and asks for a purple princess cape. The pretty pretty princesses are herded out onto the rainy sidewalk for pictures. M doesn’t smile until she realizes she can twirl in her cape and use the ‘wand’ as a microphone. She sings about being a rock star even though she’s a princess. Mommy is pleased. I pull her aside as a new mom walks up and flips out when she spots her daughter-turned-bedazzled-princess – HERE is a true comrade in arms (if she had a FB, she’d friend Pigtail Pals. She rocks.)

She overhears as I tell M how proud I am of her for telling Miss Pretty that ‘acting pretty is better than being pretty’, and we spend the rest of the party outside agreeing with each other’s ‘not-so-mianstream’ views on raising daughters. M looks back at the room, knows she is needed for cake (finally!), and says to New Cool Mom and I, “This lady with the makeups thinks being pretty is all she can do. She is worrying me.” And she runs off. Proud Mom Moment. She sleeps on the way home. I rant and rave to anyone who answers their phone about what’s happened. Once home, M and I have ‘mom spa’ time: a bubbly kitchen sink hair washing, mommy’s special make-up remover (that blue was eyeliner, not shadow – she ended up at church the next day with blue bottom lashes), some hot cocoa with a huge marshmallow, and some SEC football on the tv. Once her big sister wakes up from a nap, they swap stories of their parties that afternoon.

M is quick to tell R, “It was not fun, but I liked to see my friends, and they had pink lemo-lade. A tall lady told me to only be pretty all the time, but she is wrong because we need to be all the things, not just one thing. Be friendly. Be an adventure girl. Be smart. Be happy. Be a helper. Be sweet sisters.”

R nods, asks me what happened, and we discuss it. She looks concerned. In true 5-year old social butterfly fashion she asks, “So, can I still be very pretty when I be all the other things?” Of course you can, R. Of course. M is quick to point out that it’s better to ACT pretty than BE pretty – her way of saying being nice is more important than getting dolled up. R has adopted the line, too. Proud Mommy!

Amelia says Good Morning.

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Update: As I type this, on Sept 15, this post has 412,00 views. I hope that means 412,000 people choosing to live their awesome.

With all the fanfare, since Pigtail Pals is a tshirt company for kids…..we made up some tshirts full of awesome. I hope you like them.

You can buy them HERE. 3 designs, 10 colors, sizes infant – adult.

Image from The Illusionists blog.

We live in a world where we take in an average of 4,000 advertisements per day, where the vast majority of those advertisements have been digitally retouched to inhuman ‘perfection’, where media has become the wallpaper of our life.

 I wonder if some people actually know anymore what a real human body is supposed to look like.

What are we learning? What are our children learning?

Children as young as 3 years old are reported to be aware of and unhappy with their weight.

By 7 years old, 70% of girls report wanting to be thinner.

From ages 11-17 years old, girls say “looking good” is their number 1 wish in life.

Half of women would rather be hit by a bus then get fat.

My friend Elena Rossini, the film maker and media literacy expert behind The Illusionists, knows it is time we get honest about how corporations are using the media to shift our perceptions about our bodies and bank on our learned insecurities. Our bodies have become the ‘finest consumer object’.

The preoccupation with physical beauty is as old as time; what is different today is the central role that the pursuit of the perfect body has taken. It has become our new religion. Everyone is affected: boys, girls, women and men from Los Angeles to Tokyo, passing via Mumbai. 

- Elena Rossini, The Illusionists

The Illusionsts intend to create a feature-length documentary to examine and discuss how this marketing is affecting all of us, all over the globe. As the mainstream media occasionally talks about the issues, but we need revealing and solution-based media with some teeth. And we need the creation of this media to be free of censorship and interference from media companies, which is why independent funding is crucial.

I asked Elena to tell me why this film would be important for families, especially parents:

Since the mid-2000s, I have noticed the emergence of some worrying trends. A vertiginous rise in media consumption by children (as much as 7.5 hours a day). The proliferation of TV shows, magazines, websites, and advertisements for products that sexualize and objectify girls. And reports about an epidemic of body dissatisfaction and self-objectification by girls as young as 6. I think the three phenomena are deeply interconnected. Teaching parents and children to analyze and interpret mass media and advertising messages is absolutely critical. I’m making this documentary because I would like to talk about what lies underneath the tip of the iceberg: an economic system based on creating “cradle to grave” consumers who are insecure about their appearance and that value their attractiveness above everything else. 

-Elena Rossini

My family and my business will be contributing to The Illusionists Kickstarter campaign to help fund this desperately needed film. I hope you will join me. Give what you can give, as several hundred of us giving even $20 or $50 will make a difference. We will BE the difference the media needs.

***Learn more here and watch a preview, PLEASE CLICK HERE.***

A couple of months back I asked all of you to submit photos to me of the women and girls in your family for a video called the Legacy of Beauty Project that I wanted to create to show that beauty is found in each of us, it is not something to be found on a magazine advertisement or billboard for a fashion house or a surgically altered Hollywood star.

I received hundreds of photos, and equally beautiful stories to tell me about the women and girls in your lives that you loved and cherished. It was both very moving and a great privilege to have had that shared with me.

Beauty is what we pass down in our families, from generation to generation, from mother to child. Beauty is found in the arch of an eyebrow, the curl of a lock of hair, the wrinkles on the back of a hand. Beauty is the dimple at the end of a smile, a twinkle in the eye, the shape of the legs that carry us through life. Beauty is looking just like our grandmother, sharing the shape of our aunt’s eyes, having wavy hair just like mom, or picking up the exact giggle and snort of the mother who adopted us.

Beauty is what we define for ourselves.

Because we are the beautiful ones.

Here is a sneak peek:

The full video featuring ALL of your photos will be out soon. I wanted to create some original music for us again, and asked a good friend of Pigtail Pals to help us out. But as often happens, life put a few bumps in the road and the project was delayed. I promise the end result will be well worth the wait.

We began the week with a mom’s account of her first memories of negative body image, then we took a look at life size Barbie, and we’re ending the week with a mom’s battle against the creep of sexualization into her home. Pay attention as we see the slide from all pink–> princess–> Bratz–> pop star–> mini adult. If you’ve read “Cinderella Ate My Daughter“, you recognize the pattern.  

GUEST POST byRebekah Hale

Photograph: Stephen Hird / Reuters

My parenting style is most likely very different from most. I vehemently oppose the gender stereotypes of pink and blue. I expect my daughter to at least try to do well in math and science classes and even consider those subjects as a viable career choice. I expect my son to give English and art a shot. If my daughter wants to play with trucks, roll in the mud, or build model planes and cars I don’t want her seen as a “tomboy”, but instead a well rounded, healthy, intelligent child. In the same manner, if my son chooses to play dress-up, grow his hair out, or play with Barbies I don’t want him considered a “pansy”, or have his sexuality questioned. I want him to grow up confident in who he is and not question his childhood choices. As a parent, it is not my duty to stunt them intellectually and impose what I consider to be rigid societal expectations upon them. They will find their own way. I’m sure they will ultimately make choices I do not agree with, and I will hopefully have the ability to redirect them. Even if I can’t change their minds, I CAN continue to educate them.

Although I am a relatively new parent – my daughter is 18 months and I have a boy due in July – I have been a mother figure in my step-daughter’s life for almost four years. I know what I want for my biological children, but I constantly struggle to re-teach and redefine “girly” to a child who has already experienced gender conditioning. We’ve had the discussion about the color pink.

“Can boys like pink?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because girls do.”

When I came into her life, she was a typical five-year-old girl immersed in the world of pink, princesses, dolls, and all things sparkly. Just about every article of clothing she owned was pink. Her favorite movies were Disney princess movies, and she wanted to live in Disney World with the princesses – that she believed were real.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“A princess.”

A year later she was into Bratz dolls. (You cannot imagine how many we threw away due to her mother’s disinterestedness in our requests not to buy her any.) And yes, we had several conversations with her about why her dad and I do not like Bratz dolls. We explained that these dolls encourage girls to grow up too fast, to dress immodestly, and that they (maybe subconsciously) teach girls that this is what boys look for – tall, skinny, plastered in makeup, slutty looking females.

The year after that she liked Hannah Montanna and whatever the other young famous female recording artists were at that time. My husband and I were stunned at her unrelenting admiration for a singer we had never given her the option of listening to or watching on television. And then along came the body image issues and the constant attention she gave herself in the mirror.

“I’m fat.”

Where the heck did THAT come from?! Trust me when I say this child has not a single fat cell on her body – and even if she did, who cares?? But, this is when I started learning I needed to be extremely careful with how I worded things.

“People probably think you look so tall because you’re really thin.”

“I’m tall because I’m skinny.”

No, no, no. I did not say that. I DID NOT SAY THAT! Lesson learned.

Her mother, and grandmother were the most influential female figures In her life – understandably of course. Even though she only saw her mother every other weekend, she had (and still does to an extent have) some unexplainable bond with her. During a decent chunk of her life she also lived with her grandmother and she became the only stable female in her life. I get it. She loves them, she looks up to them, she wants to be them. However, I see her every day, and I see her drowning in the world I try to keep away from my daughter – or at the very least educate her about. I hear her singing highly sexualized songs her dad and I do not allow her to listen to. I catch her checking out her weight in the mirror, wanting to be like Lady GaGa, and hating math and science at school. She’s pulled her pants down for a boy at school because he asked her to, and she thinks it’s funny when a male friend slaps her butt, or gives her a kiss on the bus. She wants to wear makeup and high heels. And if she had the choice, she would be sporting a bikini not even fit for a super model to wear. She strives to earn the term “tomboy”, but does so in all the wrong ways.

Where is her sense of self? Where is her inner strength that refuses to adhere to the stereotypes set before her? And, most of all, how can I re-teach her? I try every day. I try to encourage her to purchase biographies, autobiographies, and non-fiction books at the book fairs instead of that pink fairy sparkly princess crap. I encourage her to stand up for herself at school instead of playing the damsel in distress. When clothes shopping for her, I give her as many color options in her wardrobe as possible. I also try to teach her how to use her brain and not her body to gain appropriate attention and earn respect from both her male and female peers. However, I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle, and instead, all of this is slowly creeping into my own daughter’s consciousness.

I get questioned and taunted for my own parenting choices regarding colors of clothing, selection of toys, etc. for my children. I dread when Christmas and birthdays come around because I expect massive amounts of pink toys and clothes to descend upon my house for the girls (soon, blue for my son). I worry about the influences my children will receive when they spend the night elsewhere, especially when my choices go intentionally unheeded and are contradicted. But the difference is between my biological children and my 9 year old step-daughter is that I get to start from scratch with them. I have that mother-daughter bond that I hope she/he grows up to cherish and respect. I get to be the biggest female role model in their lives for the rest of my life.

I try not to shelter, but instead offer choices. Note the word “try”. There are some cases where sheltering seems best and if not best, but (to be honest) the easiest choice. I struggle to explain in a loving and coherent manner why her mother is “wrong” to give her a training bra too early, and to send her home with Bratz dolls, makeup, tube tops, and bikinis. I don’t want my daughter asking why she can’t have something that my step-daughter can have. I cannot parent them differently, but sometimes I’m at the point of giving up. Sometimes I think that I cannot re-teach what has already been taught. That it’s too late for her. I keep hoping that the example I set for my children will rub off on her someday – and maybe that’s all I can hope for.

In the meantime, I’ll keep trying. I’ll keep giving choices, and I’ll stick to the rules my husband and I have set for the children. I’ll continue to give encouragement, and explanations when necessary. I’m really too stubborn to do otherwise – but there may come a day where I throw my hands up in surrender, move to Florida, and become a permanent princess in the giant blue castle and wait for my non-existent prince to rescue me. Maybe I’ll even dye my hair blonde, and grow it out so it is 10ft long, and start the Atkins diet. Oops, I think that was MY gender conditioning talking.

About Rebekah: I’m a 24 year old mother to my 18 month old daughter – Juniper. I am expecting my son in July – Liam. My step-daughter – Kyra – just turned 9. I graduated from UMaine with my BA in Women’s Studies, and am back at UMaine as a fulltime graduate student studying Liberal Studies and specializing in Women’s Studies.