The things we say about bodies matter.

When I would run group therapy sessions on an inpatient unit for pediatric eating disorders, my favorite group was “Nonphysical Compliments,” where we discussed the importance of acknowledging parts of people outside of their appearance.

Often, patients would feel frustrated that once they left the bubble of treatment, they would once again be bombarded by comments—most well-meaning—that turn attention back to their bodies. I reminded patients that while we can’t control others’ comments, we can try to be more aware of our own words and challenge ourselves to focus on things outside of someone’s physical appearance and what’s on their plate.

I was still working as a therapist on this unit when I became pregnant. I got to witness my body change through pregnancy while supporting patients with their own body-image struggles. I will forever be grateful that, during my first and last pregnancy, I got to experience those changes with a softness that I owe to that unit and to how it changed me forever.

I want to reiterate a point from earlier: most of these comments are not malicious, but rather a byproduct of a culture obsessed with how bodies look and change. It’s cyclical. Those making these comments were probably bombarded with physical commentary during their own pregnancies as well. For many people, pregnancy is a time when they will receive some of the most commentary about their bodies.

When our bodies change.

I remember a doctor at the hospital—not my personal doctor—coming to me with a worried look on her face and asking about my blood pressure. Blood pressure is a real concern during pregnancy due to the dangers of preeclampsia and chronic hypertension. One of the symptoms of high blood pressure is swelling. The doctor noted that my face looked swollen. I ran to the bathroom expecting to look like I had been stung by a bee. Instead, I was greeted by my “normal” pregnancy face, with fuller cheeks that made my eyes squint when I smiled.

In that moment, I was reminded of how quickly a neutral physical change can become something to worry about when we have been conditioned to scrutinize our bodies.

My cheeks weren’t a problem.

My face wasn’t something that needed to be fixed.

It was simply my pregnant face.

I had made a conscious decision during my pregnancy to continue my journey of body neutrality. I hadn’t weighed myself in a few years prior to becoming pregnant, and I wasn’t about to start now. I let my OB-GYN and the medical assistants know that I did not need to know my weight unless it was medically necessary.

Forty-ish weeks later, you are faced with a new challenge: navigating your postpartum body while caring for a newborn. What could go wrong?

The pre-pregnancy-sized pants almost taunt you. Maybe I’ll try them on… just to see. I’ll get on the scale, just to see.

It’s difficult not to see your body as a nuisance now. It’s no longer the home of a growing baby, but a challenge you encounter every morning as you decide what to wear.

They are watching us.

Watching your baby grow and develop and notice their own body is a great reminder of body neutrality. This is a wonderful opportunity to introduce talking about your body in a neutral way.

For example, pointing at your belly or belly button and saying, “There’s Mommy’s belly. Where is your belly? There it is!” rather than, “Mommy’s belly didn’t used to look like this.” This helps exemplify that body parts are what they are, and that they change. Bellies get bigger after we eat. We grow and age. Our bodies change throughout our lives.

This is where modeling becomes so important. Our children aren’t only listening to what we tell them about their bodies; they are watching what we do with our own.

They watch us get dressed.

They hear the comments we make in front of the mirror.

They notice when we avoid pictures or pull at our clothes to hide certain parts of our bodies.

They hear us talk about dieting, calories, exercise, and weight, even when we aren’t talking directly to them.

This can feel overwhelming. Now, on top of everything else that comes with parenting, am I supposed to have a perfect relationship with my body, too? No. Absolutely not. A healthy relationship with our bodies can look different from day to day. Some days we might feel confident. Other days, getting dressed can feel harder. We might have a negative thought about our bodies or feel uncomfortable in our skin. What matters is how we respond to those moments and what we allow our children to see.

Maybe instead of saying, “I look terrible in this,” we can say, “This doesn’t feel comfortable on my body today. I’m going to find something that does.” When it comes to exercise, we can let our children see us move our bodies because it feels good, helps us feel strong, or brings us joy, rather than because we need to make up for something we ate. These may seem like small changes, but small changes are often how we interrupt a cycle.

We can also shift the way we talk about our children. Compliments about appearance aren’t inherently bad. Of course our children can know that we think they are beautiful, handsome, adorable, or that we love their new haircut. Appearance can be part of the conversation. I just want it to be one part of the conversation, rather than the primary way we communicate what we value about them.

Remembering my “Nonphysical Compliments” group helps me here. What if we intentionally expanded our vocabulary? What if we told our children, “I love how curious you are,” “You were so thoughtful to your friend,” “You worked really hard on that,” or “You didn’t give up when that was difficult”? What if we noticed their creativity, humor, kindness, courage, persistence, and empathy?

We can do the same for ourselves.

Our children can watch us put on clothes that fit our bodies rather than waiting for our bodies to fit into the clothes. They can watch us eat when we’re hungry and stop when we’re satisfied. They can watch us rest without having to earn it. They can hear us speak about our bodies with the same compassion we would want them to use when talking about theirs.

We don't have to get it perfect.

We will have days when we look in the mirror and don’t like what we see. We will make a comment we wish we hadn’t made. We may catch ourselves slipping back into old ways of thinking.

That doesn’t mean we’ve failed.

Those moments can become opportunities to model something incredibly important: repair.

We can acknowledge that we are still learning. We can show our children that having an uncomfortable thought doesn’t mean we have to believe it. We can show them that when we make a mistake, we can pause, acknowledge it, and try something different.

We cannot control every message our children will receive about their bodies. We can’t protect them from every diet, advertisement, social media post, comment from a family member, or conversation with a friend. Just like my patients taught me, eventually we all leave the bubble. Our children will encounter diet culture. They will hear things we wish they hadn’t. They will see images and messages that reinforce the idea that certain bodies are better than others.

What we can do is give them a strong foundation at home. We can help them recognize those messages for what they are and give them another way of thinking about their bodies.

The thing I want to leave you with.

This work has become especially meaningful to me as I now blend my experience in body image and eating disorders with my work in the perinatal community.

When I became pregnant, I saw how much attention there was on the physical changes of pregnancy and postpartum, and how little space there often was to talk about the emotional experience of living in a changing body. I saw an opportunity to bring the conversations I had been having with patients for years into a community where I felt they were deeply needed.

In many ways, I feel like I am bringing those two parts of my work together.

The lessons I learned from my patients continue to shape how I understand pregnancy, postpartum, parenting, and the relationship we have with our bodies. I hope to help create more space for parents to navigate these changes with curiosity and compassion, while also thinking about the messages they are passing on to their children.

And maybe most importantly, I hope we can give our children something many of us didn’t receive ourselves: the freedom to experience their bodies before they learn to judge them.

We don’t have to get this perfect.

We just must keep noticing, keep questioning, and keep trying to do better.

Lindsey.

Lindsey Harris, LPC, PMH-C, is a perinatal and body image therapist and founder of Bourne Counseling in Texas. Her work supports mothers and individuals navigating perinatal mental health, anxiety, body image and eating disorders. Find Lindsey at:

Bourne Counseling

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A note: This article is dedicated to the many patients I was honored to work with as they navigated eating disorder treatment. They taught me more than they will ever know, and I hope they know that I think of them often.