My daughter came to me last night, after dinner, and said, 'Mom, I'm fat. Just look at my belly.' She proceeds to lift up her shirt slightly, where all I see is a belly button surrounded by skin and muscle. She's almost 9, and it has already begun.
I'm not going to sit here and blame society for my daughter's developing self-consciousness, though with the way she has been raised for the last almost 9 years, I do feel it's a huge part of what's going on in her head. My daughter is not fat. She's not even remotely fat. The child almost has a six-pack because she's a little tomboy that gets outside, plays catch, plays tennis, loves sports. But for some reason, her post-meal belly was a cause of concern for her.
So, I pulled on my Mom big girl panties, and decided to take one for the team. I stood up, pulled up my shirt, and showed my daughter what fat looks like. 'See, honey. Fat jiggles' and I proceeded to shake my belly and my love handles. She fell onto the floor in laughter. Sheesh, sweetheart, don't kick Mommy while she's down, please, especially not when she's sacrificing some dignity to prove a point to you.
Finish reading Jiggles and the Truffle Shuffle, All to Prove a Mom Point...
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