There are a million things I want to say about this, but don’t even know where to start. I mean, body shaming a little girl before she can walk is hilarious, I guess? There’s nothing wrong with telling your son he’s super and letting him run around in a cape. I hope you’d want your daughter to do the same, even if the onesie is *clutches pearls* blue.
Listen, one of the cornerstones of my personality is that I am hard to offend and can find humor in anything, but this is just infuriating for me. I actually bought my friend’s baby a shirt last year that said, “Pretty Eyes and Chunky Thighs.”
Here’s the difference as I see it. First, baby boys have chunky thighs too. Why is it funny to think of a little girl hating her rolly-polly thighs, but nobody would ever think of getting a “I hate my thighs” shirt for a baby boy? News flash: baby boys have the same adorable squishy chubby thighs as baby girls do. They’re one of my favorite things about babies.
Here, the purple onesie here is promoting the hatred of one’s body. I feel like the way we speak to ourselves is critically important, and we should start kids off with reality and positivity. I’m 42. I have pretty eyes and chunky eyes and I’m beautiful. I don’t hate my body, because I spent far too long doing just that. I compared myself to other girls, and then I compared myself to other teenagers. As I got older I compared myself to other women. It’s so damaging. My best friend (who happens to co-write this blog with me) is a size 0-2. Probably. I haven’t asked lately, and she’s beautiful. She’s not more lovely or less lovely than me; she is just different. I could work out 6 hours a day and eat grass and ants and I’d never hit a size 2, because my body isn’t built that way, and that’s fine. There are a lot of other beautiful things about me, things that are visibly apparent and things that most people don’t know about.
It took me a TON of work to get to this place where I’m happy to be exactly who I am. To appreciate who I am, what I am, and to believe I deserve the space my body takes up in this world. I can acknowledge my chunky thighs without hating them or hating myself. Make no mistake: a person who hates her body isn’t a person who fully loves herself, because the two cannot coexist. You don’t have to think your body is perfect in order to love yourself, but you do have to accept your body and appreciate it.
My friend shared a meme the other day that said, Only goal as a mother: raise children who don’t have to recover from their childhoods.” It so happens that she’s the mama of the baby girl for whom I bought that shirt. If you have a daughter and a similar goal, I urge you to avoid placing her in garments like this. She might not be able to read it now, but I could read at age three and I liked looking at pictures of myself when I was that age just as much as I love looking at pictures of myself now. I’m so glad there were no photos of little Mitch preaching self-hate on a shirt.
-Love and light, Selfish Mitch