Watch What You Say

The other day I was wiggling my rather large rump into my favorite pair of jeans.

Trust me, these are soft, smoothly worn down jeans from Lane Bryant, size 26, that I've had for the last 4 years. I LOVE THEM.

I was able to wiggle most of my plumpness into the jeans without a problem. I was even able to pull the zipper up without too much of a struggle.

It's when I tried to breathe that I realized my roll was constricted and I couldn't feel my toes. heh.

That's about the time I yelled to Dave, "Honnnnneeeyyyyyyyy! Damn these jeans..." and I sighed and mumbled something about losing 5 or 10 pounds to fit into my favorite jeans as he arrived in the bedroom and took in my gasping form.

On Sunday, we were just hanging around the house - Dave was working, Alli and I were at the kitchen table going over Valentines for her class list.

Out of the blue, Alli tells me "I need to lose some weight, mommy."

This is a 5 year old child. Barely 34 pounds, and about 3 feet tall. Yeah, I think NOT.

I looked at her and asked, "Pumpkin, who told you that?!"

She responded with a shy, "No one."

I tried a different tact; "Where did you hear that from?"

With great trust and adoration she looked directly into my eyes and said, "You."

Shock stopped me short. It was such a simple thing that I'd said, with no reflection about my body image to myself. I don't EVER knowingly talk about body image with Alli. I always reflect to her the fact that I'm happy with who I am.

Dave and I sat down with Alli and explained that mommy just wanted to fit into her jeans; that I am happy with myself and that Alli doesn't need to lose any weight at all. She is just the right size and perfect for our family... no matter what her size, we will love her always.

In her customary wise childlike innocence she smiled and said "Okay." And then she asked for a treat.

Kids.