mirror, mirror, on the wall

Before I could teach my daughters about their bodies, I had to relearn how to talk about mine.

For years, I only knew one language, the kind that pinches at your waist in the mirror, scans your reflection for “flaws,” and mentally calculates calories like it’s your job.

I didn’t realize how fluent I was in self-criticism until I started trying to speak something kinder.

I used to think recovery would be this big, defining moment. Like I’d suddenly wake up one day loving myself. But it hasn’t been like that at all. 

It’s been drilling a new dialect into myself:
“I am allowed to eat.”
“I am allowed to take up space.”
“I don’t have to earn my  rest.”

This new language didn’t come easy.

I had to unlearn years of toxic phrases used as self-talk. I had to stop labeling food as good or bad. I had to catch myself before making the jokes that felt harmless, but left scars.

For a long time, my body was something I felt the need to fix, hide, control and silence. I didn’t know how to listen to it, much less speak to it with kindness.

I started small. No more weigh-ins to validate my day. No more working out to “earn” my food.  And no more nasty self-talk.

I try to use words like:

“This body gave birth.”

“This body creates.”

“This body is strong.”

The more I changed the language in my own head, the more I changed the inner voice my daughters were learning.

Now, when my daughter stands in front of the mirror, she flexes and says, “I’m strong.”
And I smile because she didn’t learn that from a cartoon or a stranger on the internet.
She learned it from me.

No, I don’t love my body every day. But I’ve started speaking to it like someone I care about. Someone worth listening to.

Because healing, for me, started with words. 

If you’re in the middle of your own conversation with your body, I hope you know this:
You don’t have to speak it perfectly.
You just have to keep trying.

How are you speaking to your body today?

What kind words can you pass on to the next generation?