When I came across this quote, it struck a nerve with a hammer. I have two stepdaughters, both teenagers, and I worry about them. A lot.
It may seem like a million years ago, but I was once a teenage girl. I remember the vulnerability, the insecurity, the self-doubt of that age. The pressure to be “pretty”. Becoming more and more aware of others’ unwanted and uninvited scrutiny of my appearance, my body, my weight.
Both of my stepdaughters are intelligent, talented, and funny. Both of them have every reason to feel strong and confident. Instead, much too often, I see the opposite.
I can do my best to educate them about unrealistic fashion magazines, how women are portrayed in movies and on TV, how the diet and fitness industry views them as easy targets and walking dollar signs. But what in the hell am I supposed to do when it is the very people they should be able to trust, the people who should be building them up, who are instead ripping them to shreds and yanking their feet out from under them?
My stepdaughters are relentlessly cautioned (not in our household, of course) about what to eat so they don’t get fat. My stepdaughters have been hugged by these same “family” members who then pat them on the tummy and tell them they need to start riding their bike more, or go running. They are told they must “do what they have to do” to be skinny.
They are torn down to nothing but body parts, dissected, measured, and deemed not good enough, by people who are supposed to love them, support them, take care of them. Being called fat by strangers is painful enough, but when that insult comes from someone you should be able to trust, it stings even more. The wound is even deeper. And those hateful, stupid, belligerent words dig in to the bone.
Neither of my stepdaughters is overweight. It begs the question, what the hell is the purpose of intentionally pounding that insecurity in their heads, when it isn’t even true?
The truth is this: the kids are easier to push around, manipulate, and tell what to do if they are insecure, unsure of themselves, weakened by hateful words.
I remember one of the girls asking me why I work out. I didn’t want to tell her “Because I’m fat and I need to lose weight.” I wanted to give her a healthy and positive attitude, not a demeaning and punishing one. So I told her, “Because I want to be healthy and strong.”
That is the attitude I wish the kids were exposed to all the time, but I can’t control what others do. I shouldn’t have to. If someone truly cares about the kids, they wouldn’t call them fat, take immature digs at their weight, pound into their heads that they are too big, too fat, just not good enough.
Those people can go to hell. They are the ones who are not good enough, not the kids. They are the ones who need to change, not the kids. How pathetic do you need to be to bully kids? What kind of so-called adult takes cheap shots at a child, when the list of their own shortcomings is never-ending? And how much of a hypocrite is someone who sobs crocodile tears about the same comments made about her by dysfunctional family members, but who condones and perpetuates the exact same abusive behavior being unleashed on the kids?
I want my stepchildren to feel strong, independent, confident. I want them to take pride in their abilities, accomplishments, and ideas. By contrast, people in their other home deliberately do their best to make them feel like this:
At a time when my stepdaughters are most vulnerable, their teenage years, they need the adults in their lives to reinforce them, remind them of their worth far beyond their appearance, help them grow into their full, strong, self-reliant selves.
My husband and I will do our best to do that. It would be much easier, of course, if we didn’t have to fight the diseased and polluting behavior of others in the kids’ lives. But we won’t stop trying. The kids are worth the effort to us. I wish they were worth it to everyone.
Sweat & Sparkle 