Time Out: Pinch an Inch

I noticed something very interesting about my seven-year-old recently. I was tickling her, and as she bent over in laughter (I’m a really good tickler), I realized my hand that was on her belly was feeling a fat roll.

Well, more of a rollette, compared to what I got goin’ on.

This girl (`Big One’) is one of those naturally trim and athletic freaks of nature, who could eat nothing but ice cream and Skittles for a month and still have six-pack abs. But in this bent-over position, Big One proved to me that she, too, is human (putting an end to my paranoid fantasy that she had been switched at birth with the newborn of a Brazilian supermodel who just happened to be delivering at the same hospital as me). Whew, was I relieved.

But, of course, I knew better than to blurt out – “Goodness, Child, your body stores fat, would ya look at that!”

With girls, and possibly boys too, navigating the murky waters of body image is tricky business, and I’ve learned to be very careful about what I say. Comparisons are taboo, especially since Big One’s little sister (let’s call her “Little One” for symmetry’s sake) has more of a round, curvy figure that is typical of her female ancestry.

When praising them, I’ve learned to take the time to complement how different their bodies are, stressing that they are both beautiful in their own way. (To which Little One once retorted, “Ya, but you’ve got a floppy butt.” That’s a whole ‘nother column in itself.)

I’ve also learned to watch what I reveal about my own body image. They know what the word “diet” means. I let that slip years ago.

Mommy can’t eat any more of your fries because they’re not on her diet.

That led to me defining the word, and then trying to explain why I had already eaten 22 fries, since they weren’t on my “diet.”

Now I tell them that I want to fill my body with healthy foods so I have the energy to exercise, work, and play with them after school. It does not explain why their Halloween candy stashes are dwindling rapidly. But what happens after they go to bed is none of their concern.

But, I can only do so much. There’s that nagging thing called The World Around Us, which I blame for the following question that came from five-year-old Little One just yesterday:

Does my bum look fat in these jeans?

Now I know she didn’t learn that question from me; I stopped asking it years ago. I laughed it off.

No, Silly, you look great in those jeans!

She smiled, and went about her business. But I know that the day will come when a kind word from Mom won’t be enough to calm her insecurities. And that’s why we talk regularly about the most important kind of beauty of all - the beauty of the heart.

Cara Garretson is a freelance writer based in the Washingon, D.C. area who only sneaks candy after 8pm.

[EDITOR’S NOTE: The editor of this column, who happens to be the husband of the columnist and father to Big One and Little One, fielded the “does this shirt make me look fat?” question from rail-thin Big One just this morning, followed by the plea, “don’t tell Mom I said that.” It may be time to unplug all the TVs and cancel the magazine subscriptions in this household, before either of the girls reaches third grade!]

Read more of Cara's Time Out columns:

• Like Mother, Like Daughters
• Good Morning Sunshine!