PerfectionA couple of weeks ago we had an awesome presentation for our YW about body image and how women are portrayed in the media. It really got me thinking, especially when Kylie came home the other day and said, "I wish my thighs were as skinny as Emma's". I was shocked. That was something I never thought I would hear out of my 6 year old's mouth. Then a few days later I asked Jayden if he liked his new teacher at school and he said, "no, her stomach is too fat". Once again, I was totally shocked. Even at such young ages, they can already sense the pressure to be "perfect". The more I thought about it, the more I realized that there is nothing "perfect" about the size zero image that is being portrayed. It's more than just being happy with who you are and loving yourself despite your imperfections (because heaven knows I'm not in love with my love handles), to me it's more about not denying yourself of a fulfilling life while on your quest for a perfect body. It's learning to love life and live it to the fullest. When I die (not trying to be morbid here, it's just a fact of life), I don't want people to come to my viewing and say, "wow, now that's a girl who lived off bean sprouts and had a permanent residence at the gym". No, instead I want people to look at me and say, "now that's a girl who really enjoyed life". I want them to look at my "not size zero" body and think of all those birthday cakes I enjoyed, all the pounds of cookie dough I ate while baking cookies with my kids, all the pizza I consumed during family movie nights, all the bean burritos and Fettucini Alfredo I devoured while on dates with Jason and all the donuts I ate while doing donut runs with Jayden. I want them to look at all the freckles and my far from perfect skin and think of all the memorable family vacations we took to the beach and all the days spent out in the sun playing at the park or swimming in the pool with the kids. I want them to look at the bags under my eyes and think of all the nights I lost out on beauty sleep because I was up with a crying baby or sick kids or just stayed up way too late watching TV and movies with Jason. I want them to look at the wrinkles on my face and think of all those years I spent laughing. I want them to see my scars and think of all the wild and crazy things I did--ha, ha! Who am I kidding, I'm such a whimp. But I may have a few battle wounds from my wilder snowboarding, motorcycle riding (riding, not driving) days :). I want them to look at my non-washboard abs and think how grateful I was to be able to give birth to my beautiful children. I want them to look at my not so perfectly manicured nails and realize that I would much rather have had Kylie give me a pedicure during one of our "girl parties" than have it done by a professional. I want them to look at my flat chest and realize, oh wait...I'm still hoping for my implants some day, so let's just not go there. I mostly just want them to look at me and remember that I loved unconditionally, laughed uncontrollably and lived undeniably. Perfection is overrated.