On Raising Wonder Woman

Things I thought today:

I’m fat again.
It’s okay because it’s temporary.
I can get myself back on track.
I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again.
Until then I may as well say “fuck it” and make sure to hide the candy bar wrappers.
My daughter doesn’t own socks and we are moving to Maine in two weeks.
If I had a nickel for every time I ate as an emotional response to stress…(That would totally backfire. I’d just use the nickels to buy more shit to stress eat. Shit.)

Things Other People said today:

You know so and so? She’s a big girl. Makes the two of us look downright anorexic.
…and then this short fat woman farted at Target and we were right behind her.
You have/had an eating disorder?
Why did you hiding in the bathroom?
You are being overly sensitive.
Stop second guessing yourself.
Shut the fuck up and just breathe.
You are a wonderful mother and she is who she is because of that.
She’ll be fine.
You can’t put her in a bubble.
Don’t try to change the world.
Stay focused on how she sees herself in it.

More Things I Thought Today:

I’m fucked if I actually make a name for myself because then people might actually notice when I freak out about hitting publish.
No one tell anyone who isn’t familiar with the term “archive” or what it means in relation to a web site.
No, I am not confusing food allergies with eating disorders.
Thank God I haven’t gone viral. OHGAWDWHATIFIACTUALLYDO?
Why can’t I put her in a bubble? Society mostly sucks. The bubble might actually be nice, I think.
We drive to Maine in two weeks.
I probably should have taken my Xanax today.
I’m fat again. But not as fat as before.
I hate myself.
I’ll justify everything with “I’m driving to Maine with a five-year-old, my mother-in-law, three dogs, and a beta fish.”
No, I really wasn’t asking if that last one worked for you or not.

Question I asked my daughter before she went to bed:

How many different kinds of awesome are you again?

Answers to my questions:

110.

Conclusions:

She is not me.
I am not her.
She is going to be okay.
I have to keep pretending/trying/and trying again.
I am fat again.
But that’s only temporary.
I am overly sensitive.
But I’m doing something right: My five-year-old thinks she’s many different kinds of awesome and wears super hero capes with blue tutus and red cowboy boots out to run errands with me almost always because she’s Wonder Woman.
That makes me Queen Hyppolita. The irony is not lost on me.
I carefully plan my outfits based on what I imagine what Other People might say.
I want to be 100 different kinds of awesome.
She is going to be okay.
I am jealous of her confidence just as I am proud to be her mother.

Pauline Campos contributes to Funny Not Slutty, Owning Pink, and 30 Second Mom. She blogs three times a week at Aspiring Mama (or when she remember to take her Adderall) and is the founder of Girl Body Pride.