“You look so pretty.”
I hear the words directed at my three-year-old, and I feel myself—almost reflexively—cringe.
Growing up in the 90s, pretty was the ultimate compliment. It subtly taught us that looking a certain way was a child’s most valuable asset. I spent much of my young adulthood unlearning that message, and in our home, we’ve made a conscious choice: we don’t center our children’s appearance in how we praise them.
Helping my children understand that their value lies in who they are—not how they look—takes intention. It has meant many thoughtful conversations with my partner and extended family, because the “pretty” reflex runs deep. It’s often said without a second thought.
The Shift: From Appearance to Attributes
So what do we say instead?
We talk about who they are. I tell my daughter—and my sons—that they are smart, strong, kind, curious, and creative.
When my daughter plays with my makeup or watches me apply my own, I’m mindful not to frame it as something that makes us “better” or more “beautiful.” Instead, it’s about expression, play, and choice.
A small but meaningful moment came recently when she asked to do her makeup with me because she wanted to feel fancy, not pretty. That subtle shift in language felt like a glimpse of something taking root—that style can be about expression, not evaluation.
The Mirror Effect
Our children are always watching—and internalizing more than we realize.
They don’t just hear what we say to them; they absorb how we talk about ourselves and others. Because of that, I try to be intentional about what they see and hear. You won’t find me scrutinizing my body in the mirror or commenting—positively or negatively—on someone else’s body in front of them.
If children watch us pick apart our “imperfections,” they learn to do the same to themselves.
This awareness has also challenged me to rethink how I respond to certain words—especially “fat.”
My instinct, shaped by years of conditioning, is to react quickly: That’s not nice. But I’ve had to pause and ask myself—would I react the same way if a child said someone was “tall”?
Probably not.
When we respond with immediate shame, we unintentionally teach that certain bodies are inherently “bad.” Instead, we talk about how bodies come in all different shapes and sizes—and we hold a simple boundary: we don’t comment on other people’s bodies.
Responding to “Honest” Observations
This work can be hardest when the observations are directed at us.
About a year after my youngest was born, my oldest looked at me and said, “Wow Mommy, your belly still looks like there’s a baby in there!”
My first reaction was to tell him that was hurtful. But I caught myself. That response would have reinforced a message I’m actively trying to undo—that certain bodies are acceptable and others are not.
So instead, I took a breath and said, “My body changed to make room for all of my babies.”
That kind of response doesn’t come naturally. It has taken years of unlearning and ongoing work. And even when my children’s words stir up my own old narratives, I remind myself: my body image is mine to work through—it’s not theirs to carry.
The Goal: The Least Interesting Thing
What I hope for my children—and for all of us—is a different relationship with our bodies.
I don’t want them spending hours of their lives thinking about how they look. I want them to know that their bodies are just one small part of who they are—and not the most interesting part.
By gently shifting the focus from appearance to character, from the mirror to their inner world, I hope to offer them something many of us are still trying to find: a sense of worth that isn’t dependent on how they are seen.
