Why I Want My Sons to See Me Naked*|*Rita Templeton
Between you and me, I'm dismayed, big time, by my post-baby body. But for the sake of my boys -- and my future daughters-in-law -- I lie through my teeth. When they ask about my stretch marks, I tell them proudly how growing a baby is hard work, and that they're like badges I've earned (gaming references always hit home with dudes, no matter what you're explaining). As much as I'd like to cringe and shrink away when they touch my squishy belly, I let them squeeze my flab between their curious fingers. Do I hate it? Yes. I want to wail, "Leave my fat alone!" and run for the nearest oversized T-shirt (or, like, the nearest liposuction clinic).
But I don't. Because for right now, for these few formative years, my flab is their one and only perception of the female body. And I want them to know that it's beautiful, even in its imperfection.
That's a way to instill healthy body issues in children.