This past Friday night, I happened upon the latest episode of "What Not To Wear". I have been a loyal fan of this show for years, and I've considered nominating myself about a hundred times to be on the show. Who wouldn't want to get that $5000 Visa card? Who wouldn't want to spend three days shopping in NYC? Who wouldn't want their wardrobe to be ripped apart on national television by a tiny little brunette fashionista and her super sexy fabulous partner in crime?
This episode was about a 40-something glee club teacher who was nominated by her husband and her students. This woman had a passion for Broadway in her twenties and lived out her dreams on stage. After she got married, she had a daughter and fed her creative soul by teaching, helping young teenagers to themselves be performers. And in that time, she forgot herself. Her wardrobe was too lazy, too young, too blah. And in the middle of her transformation, something that she said to Stacy made me stop dead in my tracks. She didn't think she was beautiful.
You may be saying, well, that's no surprise. And it's not, really. We are surely our worst critics as women. We are experts in contrast and compare. Even alone in our bedrooms, looking in the mirror, there are dozens of women surrounding us, who are more beautiful, sexy, put together than we are. And sometimes, we just give up. Sometimes we concede, and we pull our dirty hair back in a ponytail, throw on our husband's tee shirts and some old workout pants (that haven't seen a good sweat in months or years), and we go out into the world, hoping to be invincible. And to most of everyone else, we do go completely unnoticed. Except for perhaps a few sets of eyes, and in my case, two very little, precious, impressionable sets of eyes look at me every day. And here's where the lesson is.
This woman, standing in front of a rack of clothes with Stacy and Clinton, had a lightbulb moment. She realized how important it is for her seven year old daughter to feel absolutely beautiful, even if there are times she might have flaws. She realized that her daughter will only learn how to express confidence in her beauty by her mother's example. And as I watched her, I looked at the sleeping baby in my arms and understood that it's not about the size of your nose, or the inches in your waistline, or the dimples and ripples in your skin. It's about what those girls see in me, and how they look at themselves as they get older. It's me doing what I need to do to re-engage my self-confidence, conquering the psychological roadblocks that keep me from my ultimate happiness and healthiness. And it's about being a life teacher to my girls.
In this life, you are lucky if you have the opportunity to be an example to someone. Not everyone looks at that responsibility with fervor or enthusiasm. But I do. I'm honored to be a mother, to teach my girls the ropes, and have the responsibility of giving them all the tools in my arsenal to help them navigate through all their personal trials and joys. I'll help them see how beautiful they both are in their own right, and hope that what they learn can be passed on to their kids.
Thank you, Stacy and Clinton. You helped me remember the legacy that awaits my girls starts with me.
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