Leaning forward, I look myself over in the half mirror above the sink.
All parts of me that make for a beautiful whole. I am beautiful. I AM beautiful. I am beautiful. I am BEAUTIFUL!
Except… Except, I can’t help twirling my hair, or pinching the fat at my waist, or noting the droop of my booty and wondering.
I’m wondering why those things bother me when they shouldn’t. Why I sometimes hear my mother’s words criticizing. I am bound by the words of someone as flawed as me. A worrier when I shouldn’t be, imperfect and clinging to the praise of a person as imperfect as me.
My hair looks fine! No one should critique my style, my body, my hair except me.
Mothers, be good to your daughters. Tell her she’s beautiful, teach her to be strong, show her how to trust her judgement. Because she will love they way you’ve shown her to appreciate herself, and that’s a perfect reflection of you.