Written by Beck Hendropurnomo
A couple of days ago, Evie sat next to me on a chair, and I found myself saying “Ooo! I hope you can squeeze on there! Mummy’s big thighs are in the way.” And I heard what I have been saying to her, for quite some time now: my body is ugly.
Where is all of this coming from? When did I start thinking that my body (curvy, healthy BMI, excellent blood pressure, low cholesterol and in pretty good working order), is something to make jokes about, or speak negatively of?
Love your body

Perhaps it was when I was a developing teenager, riddled with angst about the bright orange colour of my hair, my skin, and my emerging hips, changing hurriedly after PE so that the confident popular girls would not see my pale skin, or have a giggle as I was not as buxom as some.
Maybe it was when an older male laughed about my development, and another worried about my thighs (did I then begin to worry about their middle age paunch or receding hairlines? No, I was too busy filing away those negative and unnecessary comments in my little adolescent brain.) Or when a peer told me I was ugly and would never be pretty. Ouch.
Was it when I listened to beautiful women, curvy, slender, of all shapes and sizes moan and complain about their nose I found perfectly acceptable, or the knees I’d give my straight hair for. When women slimmer than me, grasped at non-existent flesh and cringed, which made me feel horrible for having inherited my Oma’s dimpled thighs, so to hide this ‘problem’, I wore baggy pants for a good four years, (and at the age of 18 a dear friend stopping me from buying maternity jeans which I genuinely thought I needed).
When I met my husband, it truly did change the way I felt about myself, as he did give me more confidence, and didn’t mind what I looked like, as long as I was happy and healthy. And even now, after having a baby, and fitting into my old clothes quite early on (thanks Healthy Mummy Smoothies for that extra kick up the pants!), I still carry that negative internal dialogue with me, which I do not want to pass on to my impressionable daughter.
She loves my body: it housed her, it comforts her, it runs, and plays and snuggles with her. It holds her close, and gives her kisses. Why should I seek to verbally make fun of, and attack, something that she loves? So I am on a mission, and I hope other yummy mummies will join me, in stopping ourselves saying negative and untrue things about our bodies. What we say will teach our daughters what to think, and our sons, what a woman should look like in order for them to be acceptable.
Let our mission be to treat our bodies with respect by feeding them good things, exercising them and taking care of them. For every negative thought I have about my thighs, I am trying to think, “At least I have legs which are able to carry me”, or for my larger (and somewhat altered) bust, “These guys nursed my baby, giving her everything she needed”. When you look in the mirror, be grateful for your eyes that can see, your ears that can hear, your limbs! Instead of chasing the super model dream, chase a healthy lifestyle, and tell your children about the wonders of how our bodies work.
Let us teach our daughters to be healthy eaters, not crash dieters, and our boys to judge a woman by their character, not their dress size. This is my goal.
Written by Beck Hendropurnomo
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