I took a picture of myself today.

And almost immediately, I started picking it apart.

My stomach. My face. The angle. The parts of me that looked bigger than I wanted them to look. The things I wished I could smooth, shrink, hide, or change.

It’s amazing how quickly we can do that, isn’t it?

We can look at a photograph filled with an entire person—a woman who loves deeply, works hard, raises babies, keeps a home moving, carries a thousand invisible responsibilities—and somehow reduce her to the size of her stomach.

And I started thinking about my children.

Especially my girls.

What are they learning when they watch me look at myself?

Because whether I realize it or not, they are watching.

Being a Confident Woman Is Hard

There is something incredibly difficult about being a confident woman in today’s world.

We are surrounded by messages telling us what we should look like.

Lose the weight.

Smooth the wrinkles.

Cover the ever evolving glitter (greys).

Fix your skin.

Tone your stomach.

Dress younger—but not too young.

Age gracefully—but somehow don’t look like you’ve aged.

Be comfortable in your body—but only after you’ve changed it.

It is exhausting.

And social media has made it even harder.

We don’t just compare ourselves to celebrities anymore. We compare ourselves to women we went to high school with, women from church, other moms at the playground, influencers, strangers, and sometimes even our own younger selves.

We scroll through carefully selected photographs without seeing the twenty pictures that were deleted first.

We see flattering angles, good lighting, filters, makeup, editing, and perfectly timed snapshots.

Then we look in the bathroom mirror under fluorescent lighting and wonder why we don’t measure up.

But measure up to what?

Our Environment Shapes the Way We See Ourselves

The things surrounding us eventually become the voices inside our heads.

If we’re constantly surrounded by messages telling us that smaller is better, younger is better, smoother is better, and prettier is better, eventually we begin believing that our value is somehow connected to how closely we can get to those things.

And sometimes those messages don’t even come from strangers.

Maybe you grew up hearing women criticize their bodies.

Maybe your mother constantly talked about needing to lose weight.

Maybe someone commented on your body when you were young and you’ve carried those words for decades.

Maybe you’ve spent years thinking you’d finally be confident when you lost twenty pounds.

Or when you fit into that size again.

Or when you got your hair done.

Or when the stretch marks faded.

Or when you finally looked like the woman you thought you were supposed to be.

But what happens if we spend our entire lives waiting to love ourselves?

More importantly, what happens when our children watch us do it?

Our Children Are Listening

I never want my daughters to look at their bodies and immediately search for something wrong.

I don’t want them standing in front of a mirror at sixteen, twenty-five, forty, or sixty and hearing a voice telling them they aren’t enough.

And I certainly don’t want that voice to sound like mine.

I want my son to grow up understanding that a woman’s worth isn’t determined by her waistline, her age, her clothing size, or whether she looks like the women on his screen.

But teaching our children confidence requires more than telling them they’re beautiful.

They need to see it.

They need to see Mom get into the swimming pool instead of sitting on the side because she doesn’t like how she looks in a swimsuit.

They need to see Mom get into the family picture.

They need to hear Mom accept a compliment without immediately responding with something negative about herself (I’m working on this, myself).

They need to see Mom eat without apologizing for it.

They need to see Mom wear the dress.

Take the picture.

Laugh loudly.

Show up.

Live.

Because one day our children may treat themselves the way they watched us treat ourselves.

That’s a sobering thought.

But This Is Bigger Than Body Positivity

For me, confidence can’t simply come from looking into a mirror and telling myself I’m beautiful.

Because some days I won’t feel beautiful.

Some days the jeans won’t fit.

Some days I’ll notice another wrinkle.

Some days I’ll see a photograph and wish the angle had been different.

If my confidence depends entirely on how I feel about my appearance that day, it will always be fragile.

That’s why I have to remind myself of something much bigger.

I was made in the image of God.

Genesis 1:27 tells us:

“So God created man in His own image; He created him in the image of God; He created them male and female.”

Think about that.

Before the world ever had an opinion about my body, God created me in His image.

Before there were clothing sizes, beauty standards, filters, diet culture, anti-aging products, or social media, there was a Creator who looked at His creation and called it good.

My worth was never supposed to come from a mirror.

It comes from Him.

My Body Has Done More Than Look Pretty

Somewhere along the way, I think many of us were taught to view our bodies primarily as decorations.

But my body isn’t decoration.

It has carried me through my life.

There is room for growth without shame.

These arms have held babies.

This lap has been climbed into countless times.

These hands have made meals, wiped tears, tied shoes, cleaned messes, turned pages of bedtime stories, held tiny hands, and folded approximately seventeen billion loads of laundry.

This face has laughed until it hurt.

These eyes have cried.

This body has changed through seasons of life because I have lived inside of it.

Maybe instead of constantly asking whether our bodies look good enough, we should occasionally stop and thank God for everything they have allowed us to experience.

Confidence Doesn’t Mean Loving Every Picture

I think that’s important to say.

Confidence doesn’t mean I’ll never have an insecurity again.

It doesn’t mean I have to look at every photograph and think, Wow, I look amazing.

It doesn’t mean wanting to exercise, lose weight, wear makeup, color our hair, or change something automatically means we don’t love ourselves.

There is room for taking care of ourselves while also refusing to hate ourselves.

There is room for saying:

I may want to change some things, but I don’t have to hate the woman I am today.

And maybe that’s the kind of confidence I want my children to see.

Not perfection.

Freedom.

So I’m Trying Something Different

I’m trying to stop criticizing myself in front of my children.

I’m trying to stop hiding from photographs.

I’m trying to stop believing every unflattering angle deserves to be deleted.

I’m trying to remember that the little people watching me don’t see the things I criticize.

They see Mom.

They see the woman they run to when they’re hurt.

The woman they want when they’re scared.

The woman whose lap still feels like home.

The woman they ask to play, swim, snuggle, read, color, explore, and stay just a little longer.

They aren’t measuring my waist.

They’re measuring my presence.

And someday, when they’re grown, I don’t want them looking through childhood photographs and wondering why Mom was always behind the camera.

I want to be there.

Mama, Get in the Picture

Wear the swimsuit.

Get in the pool.

Put on the shorts.

Take the selfie.

Stand beside your babies for the picture.

And when that little voice immediately points out everything you think is wrong with you, answer it with something stronger.

I am God’s creation.

I am made in His image.

My body is not the measure of my worth.

I do not have to become smaller to deserve to take up space in my own life.

Our children are growing up in the same world that taught us to criticize ourselves.

We may not be able to silence every message they’ll hear.

But we can make sure there is another voice in their lives.

A voice reminding them that they were intentionally and wonderfully created.

A voice teaching them that bodies change and beauty fades, but character, faith, kindness, courage, and love matter infinitely more.

And maybe that voice begins with the way we speak about ourselves.

Because our daughters deserve to grow into women who don’t spend decades at war with their reflections.

Our sons deserve to grow into men who understand that women are so much more than bodies to evaluate.

And our children deserve mothers who aren’t waiting until they look different to start living.

So, Mama—

Get in the picture.

Not because you finally found the perfect angle.

Not because you’ve reached your goal weight.

Not because you suddenly love every inch of yourself.

Get in the picture because you were there.

Because this is your life, too.

Because those babies love the woman standing in front of that mirror exactly as she is.

And because long before the world told you what beautiful was supposed to look like, God made you in His image.

That is where your worth began.

And no mirror gets to take that away.