This last weekend I celebrated my 44th birthday. My goal this year, and moving forward, is to be kinder to myself. I have found that as I age, I have become more critical of my flaws and I tend to let my signs of aging bother me. I also realized that I have been judging myself since I was 13 and got my first pimple. So think about this; for 31 years, my harsh internal self doubt has been at the forefront of my life. The sad thing is, in my teenage years I had nothing to complain about. I was tan and thin. So why, even as teenagers, do we learn to not love ourselves?
If there was one gift I could magically bestow upon my two teenagers, it would be just that; self love. As they age I see them both become more sensitive to their skin and hair. Having a break-out is critical mass, and not perfect hair brings new meaning to a bad hair day. Of course this is a totally natural progression in aging. Along with maturity comes the desire to present ones best self to the world and peer groups. But why do 16 year olds and 44 year olds alike let the little things bother them so much? At what age is it ok to just be? At what age do we accept ourselves?
I wish I could blame it on social media or our celebrity-obsessed culture, but I can’t. It was cut throat in my teen years, way before the internet and cell phones. My generation wanted to look good in a bikini. Sadly, this new generation needs to look good on Instagram where literally thousands of people will see them and judge. That’s a lot to take in. No wonder why our teens are anxious and depressed. It’s all just too much. And I don’t see it getting any easier.
Even my 11-year-old is self conscious of her “hairy” legs that I won’t let her shave. People make fun of me mom, she says. Don’t fifth graders have better things to do at school like play kick-ball and run around the playground? Good lord, I always think. My preteen is already feeling the insecurity and the need to change something about herself because of other kids judgements and meanness. The innocence of childhood is fading as junior high is right around the corner for her. If only I could give her invisible armor to wear over her heart.
Mirror, mirror on the wall, can’t we just get along? Moving forward I would love to see beauty looking back at me, wrinkles and all. I would love to learn to appreciate my lines and brown spots. I have earned them from my youth in the Malibu sun, and the worry lines from my mom years. The flaws on my face should represent the life I have lived, the choices I have made. I am proud of myself, and the woman I grew into. I should also be proud of my body, and the four greatest gifts of life it created.
From now on I will model body positivity to my teens and preteen. I know it’s not that easy and their journey ahead is theirs to make. I hope they too can learn to love the reflection that stares back at them in mirror.
Elizabeth Knobel lives in Windsor and is the mother of two teens who give her inspiration everyday. She can reached at
el*********@ms*.com
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