“I’m fat.”

“I’m fat!”

Uhhh, what? I heard it again.

“I’m fat!”

Prayse had found a hand mirror in her grandma-great’s bathroom and was staring intently into it. I walked into the bathroom in disbelief and saw the most beautiful little girl in the world looking into a hand mirror with a sad look on her face saying the two words I never ever wanted to hear from her mouth, “I’m fat!”

“Praysie, what are you doing honey? Why are you saying that?”

She looked up at me with a smile and said, “Mommy, what does ‘I’m fat’ mean?”

I remembered then and knew where it had come from. I let her watch “The Wedding Planner” on the way to Grandma-Great’s house. I let her watch it because I was the one who bought it for her. A little girl in love with the thought of weddings, we had it DVR’d for awhile before it got deleted. No violence, no language, no bad guys. There was one scene I had to explain that sometimes adults drink too much of a grown-up drink and it makes them feel sick (as Jennifer Lopez’s character was stumbling home), and how that’s not good. But all in all I thought this was a safe movie.

I am very particular in what she watches much to the disbelief and frustration of others (including my daughter). I wasn’t always that way and we ended up with night terrors, sometimes four a night. I was done with everything that had a “mean guy” in it, every little witch – no matter if they ended up good, witches were not allowed in our house. We turned to PBS and it worked. It worked great as the night terrors subsided and we both got consistent full nights of sleep. As she seems to grow so fast perhaps I have not been as diligent as I need to be. I get too busy, and don’t pay as much attention as I should be.

Quick movie review for those of you not familiar with the film: At the beginning of The Wedding Planner the camera has a close up shot of Barbie, which fades and comes in with a bride-to-be styled, wait for it… just like Barbie. This Barbie is in a bit of freak out mode as she states, “I’m fat! I’m marrying the wrong guy!” etc…”. The scene ends with Jennifer Lopez’s character talking her out of her tizzy and calming her down for her wedding. I watched it and thought, “All’s well that ends well.”

How quickly I forget that my reality is not the reality of my now 4 year old. She sees “Barbie” who in her mind is the picture perfect definition of beautiful, telling herself in a mirror, “I’m fat!” even if she doesn’t truly understand what it means right now.

Could it be perhaps that even with all of my attempted protection from the bad things, the mean guys, the ominous dark moments – I have let in something worse? I have let in what our society broadcasts as”beautiful” or should be according to them? The fact that being made in God’s image seems to be not good enough? The sad truth that we as women make derogatory comments about ourselves and even each other? This, I believe may be even more dangerous, have more long term negative effects than everything I was trying to protect her from.

I remembered a scene from about a year and a half ago. Prayse was born with a small hemangioma close to her shoulder. Not a big deal, it’s faded so much now that you wouldn’t even notice it and even I have to look for it. She was two-and-half/three and we were trying on Mama’s dresses (shirts) and modeling them for each other. I saw her staring intently into the full length mirror and focus on her red birthmark. Slowly her hand came up to cover it and then she modeled in the mirror. I broke just a bit. I kneeled down in front of her, took her hand away and as we faced the mirror I told her that she was beautiful, just the way God made her. So beautiful in fact that the angels had kissed her while she was in my belly, leaving an angel kiss. I also made a mental note to never criticize myself or how I look in front of her. It begins too early.

Very similar to that time, I made her look into the mirror and asked her to say, “I’m beautiful!” She wouldn’t say it, kept repeating, “I’m fat!” It got to the point to where I told her we would not be leaving this bathroom until I heard her say it. This particular mirror had two sides and so she said, “Mama you say it with me!”

“I’m beautiful.”
“I am a child of God’s.”
“I am the daughter of a King.”
“I am perfect, just how I am.”
“I am loved.”
“I am beautiful!”

I watched as a big smile started to form on her face. She walked out of the bathroom with the mirror in hand and I heard another small, “I’m beautiful.” This has to start being the norm, we can work on humility later. Establishing positive self-esteem and self-image first is a must.

Then I realized I too had a smile on my face. Maybe even as big girls we need to remind ourselves, “I’m beautiful” too.