Fashion Show Frenzy

When I was recently approached to have my five-year-old daughter model in a fashion show fundraiser for a local not-for-profit, my first instinct was to say no. Actually, it was to scream it. No. No. No. I had visions of those dressed-up, tiara-wearing, tiny beauty queens who looked (in my opinion) much older than they should for their age. What message would I send my daughter if I allowed her to be displayed on a runway?

Deep breath. Even I recognize that I was overreacting a bit.

So I agreed, knowing the not-for-profit well, and wanting to help my local community. I knew my daughter would be thrilled – somehow, the Universe thought it would be hilarious to give me a daughter who loves anything covered in pink sequins and jumps at every opportunity to grab a microphone and sing in public.

As a (former?) tomboy and someone who readily admits she is not fashion- forward in any meaningful way, having an extrovert daughter who primps in a mirror while singing to her dolls – dressed in a fluffy pink tutu and using a princess wand as a microphone – seems almost laughable.

And it’s a real challenge.

So when I had time to consider my consent, I began feeling some regret and panic that I had somehow undermined my convictions. I know I cannot force my daughter to be someone she’s not.

Yet still, could I go so far as to let her show off her self-proclaimed “cuteness” in an event that I feared would only serve to reinforce materialism and self-worth steeped in physical appearance?

I spoke to some of the other moms whose kids would be involved, and they tried to calm me, reminding me it was a charity event and that the kids would just have fun walking the runway to support a good cause. I, on the other hand, immediately had flashbacks to my late teenage years when I thought (for some unknown, comical reason) that modeling might be a good way to make some spending money.

After quite a few go-sees booked by a local agency, I quickly realized I would never be tall enough, skinny enough, or trendy enough to actually model (I don’t think my picture in a few elementary level math textbooks actually counts). And I remember it being a pretty painful experience emotionally.

So much of that industry is tied to physical appearance; it’s hard not to feel pretty crappy about yourself when you’re told that simply how you look means you are not good enough – even if that’s not true.

I didn’t want my daughter to ever experience that kind of rejection – the kind based solely on physical appearance. She was so much more than that already. I wanted her to know she was smart and funny, kind and loving. And so creative. I wanted her to feel comfortable in her own skin because of who she is inside, not because of how she looks.

So I told her. I told her how I felt about her and how her clothes and physical appearance meant nothing. She was very silent, listening to me intently, before asking, “But I still get to wear the big sparkly dress and go on stage with my friends, right?” Sigh. She’s five; I’ll keep working on it.

Ultimately, I let her walk the runway in the fashion show. She and her friends were terrific, and we all made a really big deal, taking pictures and clapping for them. I even posted the photos on Facebook for my faraway friends and family to see. But what surprised me is that we moms were not applauding for how the kids looked; we were so proud of how they acted. We saw self-confidence and poise in these kids that we never expected.

We watched girls from ages 5 through 12 of all shapes and sizes walk that runway with a self-assurance that reflected more about who they were than what they were wearing.

I had a little epiphany that day. I saw how, sometimes, celebrating the physical part of ourselves does not have to be base or unhealthy. I watched the older girls own their bodies and their appearance, and

I was grateful that the young girls like my daughter got to see beauty in so many different ways. I was moved to see the girls’ self-worth radiate as they walked with confidence. And we all got to help out a terrific local organization that day.

I know I will never be as concerned with clothes and physical appearances as others. But my daughter’s participation in that fashion show taught me how to be less judgmental, and to recognize the importance of celebrating our bodies as a means to elevating our self-worth. Not because of how we look, but because we are able to fully accept and celebrate who we are, inside and out.

* This article originally appeared on The Mommy Vortex.