Recently, Glamour magazine came out with a new poll that I found VERY interesting.  Amazingly, it wasn't about "What he likes in bed" or "Who wore it better?".  I haven't actually read one of these magazines for the simple reason that I don't care about the results of either of these "studies".

This poll showed that 97% of women admit to having negative thoughts about their bodies every day.  More disturbing was the part that said that it starts as young as six years old.  I can't tell you how much this bothers me.  I have three daughters... two of whom have passed the six year mark.  Do they already have issues?  Do they already have a track playing in their heads like I do?  Is it, as the findings suggest, my fault?  Sadly, I'd have to answer the last one with a yes.

When I graduated from high school, I was a solid size 8.  I ate fast food every day, never exercised, and couldn't have dreamed of wearing a small anything.  Now, three kids and fifteen years later, I'm a size 2.  (Just putting that on paper makes me cringe.)  I haven't touched fast food in more than eight years, I have been known to exercise twice a day, and my husband has mixed up my clothes with our nine year old's. 

Somewhere along the line, I equated eating with failure.  And, now I hate my body.  The same body that gave me these three beautiful daughters and carries me through each day with them.  The body that other women sometimes say they wish they had.  This is not who I want my children to emulate. 

Our society blasts us for not looking hungry.  My girls see girls every day that could really use a sandwich.  How do I keep them healthy without pushing them into wanting to be "skinny"?  I have banned the word "fat" from my house.  No one is allowed to say it about anything or anyone.  My husband is the worst offender, and I can't make him see that his comments about his wife effect his girls just as much.  Especially Sofia, when everyone keeps telling her that she looks like me.  I always correct them that she actually is only built like me.  Her beauty is her own.  But, I can't control the images they see.  I can't control the thoughts they have about themselves.  And, that terrifies me.

I want them to be the lonely 3% that love who they are.  My worry is that, always telling them how amazing they are isn't going to be enough.

Dear Glamour magazine...  please stick to the trashy crap I don't care about.  This whole "Help the Girls of the World" thing is starting to keep me up at night!