So, here I am, tapping away at my keyboard while my 6-year-old daughter, Lily, dozes on the couch, clearly worn out. Earlier, we had a conversation that was utterly absurd, and there was nothing I could do to prevent it. Well, nothing besides maybe running off to start a new life in the middle of nowhere with just my little family. The issue? It’s society. Or maybe it’s humanity. Or perhaps both.
The trouble started in her classroom, initiated by a boy who claimed to be her friend. I found myself thinking, “Are we really still dealing with this? Seriously? We have more resources, knowledge, and understanding available than ever before, yet here we are.”
As parents, we often try to shield our children from the harsh realities of life. We protect them from things we think could harm their innocent childhoods, like drugs, alcohol, and violence—stuff that has scientific backing for good reason. Other things, like sarcasm or complex emotions, might not be harmful but are avoided because they could confuse or upset them. We believe we’re doing a great job caring for the next generation.
And then comes this moment. The moment I had to discuss with Lily something far worse than poor grades or inappropriate words. This F-word, which is not an expletive but rather a term that once represented beauty and health—a term that used to describe the very essence of life, like in the case of mermaids or the early statues of beauty. Yet today, it’s become a source of anxiety for my little girl.
The word is “fat.” Once, it was just a descriptor, but now it’s a loaded term that carries a weight of negativity. It’s troubling how a simple word has morphed into something stigmatized, and it’s our collective responsibility to change that.
Our obsession with consumerism has allowed this word to take on a terrible connotation. We’ve let marketing dictate our perceptions of beauty, and in doing so, we’ve created a toxic environment. Fat is bad, we tell ourselves, and we believe it. It’s in our movies, our media, and even in the songs we share with our kids.
We have to stop selling this idea. When we put ourselves down in front of our children, whether by asking if we look fat or complaining about our own bodies, we’re perpetuating the cycle. It’s everywhere—in our conversations, our music, and our self-criticism. For example, check out this resource on female infertility which discusses how societal pressures can impact our views.
So, there I was, talking to Lily about how she doesn’t want to be fat. “What made you think that’s bad?” I asked. She couldn’t pinpoint it, but she mentioned a boy named Max who called her fat. I couldn’t help but wonder how a little boy got that idea. Probably from the same place as kids raised in homes without the F-word—where self-love is nurtured and the media isn’t a constant barrage of unrealistic standards.
I asked her if Max should have the power to define what’s good or bad about her appearance. “No,” she replied, and I encouraged her to realize that it’s her body and her life—she gets to decide.
And as she drifted off to sleep, I questioned whether this lesson would stick. Would it withstand the onslaught of negative messages that await her? We need more voices fighting back against this toxic narrative. We need to support brands like Make a Mom that promote positive messages and offer at-home insemination options with their reusable kits.
Let’s have those conversations—starting with ourselves. Our worth isn’t tied to our weight or anyone else’s. We need to give ourselves permission to just be. That’s the real beauty.
In summary, it’s vital to recognize the harmful impact of the F-word on our children and take proactive steps to counteract the negative societal messages surrounding body image. We can begin to foster a healthier environment by promoting self-love and acceptance, encouraging open dialogues, and challenging the toxic norms that persist in our culture.
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