Self-body image and the post- millennial teen

Of millennial excess and obsession with self- body image...

"To be beautiful means to be yourself. You don't need to be accepted by others. You need to accept yourself."

Thich Nhat Hanh

Growing up in the eighties, I was always called chicken legs or pancake face for my high wide cheek bones. Being from Penang and of part-Sumatran Peranakan blood, I was never the quintessentially fair maiden of Chinese bloodline, who plasters Hazeline Snow on her face to become even that much fairer to exude the stereotypical look of fairness and beauty.

My teen years were a blur of poetry writing, essay perfecting, Sweet Dreams reading, Scrabble-playing and plenty of books, playing tricks on teachers and gossiping about boys that didn’t really exist in our all-girls school and hiding myself behind the comfort of uber thick and uncool photo-gray glasses.

Did it affect my self- esteem? Surprisingly no!

Was I even aware that I was entitled to one? Perhaps not.

I was born very boyish looking, with fairly large (for a Chinese) dark eyes with double eye-lids and features that apparently weren’t terrible Chinese and a large nose with high cheek bones.

As my adolescent best mates grew breasts, mine probably stopped when I was 14 and a half, and it has stayed that way since. With my narrow hips, I was often also called 'no waist' by family members.

Hence, angular, awkward, chicken-legged and dark, I wasn’t exactly anyone’s dream teen girlfriend material, not to hetero- boys that didn’t exist nor the lesbian girls in my Convent school.

Instead, I grew and nurtured my inner Ninja-of feminist traits of confidence and intellectual and emotional strength, and acquired a self-esteem that suffered no fools.

In 6th form, I almost caused a scandal by dating the handsome and most coveted Head-boy, a boy of mixed parentage, Bollywood eye candy of sorts. I quickly discovered that looks aren't everything.

In summer school in Hawaii, I was smitten by a blonde long -haired hippie poet, who introduced me to Jack Kerouac and Milan Kundera, my summer romance, which I thought could pass off as Brad Pitt and he thought my almost purple hair was too beautiful for words.

I had my fair share of boyfriends until I met my better half, with his curly hair and Tin Tin t-shirts and the gentlest, kindest, funniest man in the world, who still rocks my world after 18 years together.

Did I let my body image and pop culture affect my crucial life decisions?

Luckily not.

For I was fortunate enough to be shielded from feeling shite about myself from looking at fashion or lifestyle teen magazines which celebrated sexy bikini- clad models, waif thin, smooth ivory skin, yet with boobs spilling out like no tomorrow. I was cocooned from all media of self-loathing.

-I didn’t have internet websites like Pro -ANA sites giving me thinspiration, no thank you.

-I didn’t have photo-shopped, air- brushed models with 6 -pecs and skinny arms jumping out at me to tell me that I was fat, ugly, gangly, uncoordinated , flat-chested, short.

-I didn’t have K-pop stars who look like fake double- lidded clones, and post -plastic surgery success stories staring at me at tell me that I needed my eye lids fixed, or my bulbous nose streamlined or needed a tummy tuck.

I remembered Karen Carpenter dying of self- inflicted starvation and my no nonsense mother telling me how tragic, silly and unnecessary that was. And I believe her till this day.

So, I never had the propensity starve myself( for I was taught to love food and to enjoy it or go hungry and offend my ancestors), or have the urge to throw up, or to be of one particular skinny, cool, gorgeous look. I did have a hideous Diana Ross perm once and carrot jeans and big T shirts and large loop earrings.

Now, I am so aware, so alarmed and SO TERRIBLE SADDENED, by young girls self- harming or starving themselves to look a certain part or to grab the attention of somebody or create a drama or some show because of popular culture and in internet. Too many, too soon.

I know every child, every teen operates differently.

Kids these days have too much. They roll in a world of excess. Often the fault of indulgent parents who believe they are providing the best. These excesses of wealth, time, social media, have become a paradox of what is really wrong in our society today.

The need to carve the perfect image for social media, the pleas for help, the medium in which young children can vulnerably subject themselves to these threats; that never existed during my years of being an adolescent. From a young age, they have it ingrained in them that they need to look a certain part- fair, light-haired, sharp features, thin. Everything being so instant and constant-Twitter, Instagram, Snapshot.

Pecs , muscles and working- out have become de rigueur lingo for these modern adolescents.

They have so much yet can take so little. With all the excesses, the fragility within seems to have gone on overdrive.

The irony.

Admittedly, on the cusp of turning 42, I’m still not too keen about my seemingly permanent dark eye circles but I know that my slight mummy tummy is a testimony and a souvenir from having given birth naturally to three healthy, delightful, mindful children who I am fiercely and fearlessly protecting from the excesses of self- loathing, self -harm and depression.

I’m blessed that my husband thinks my chicken legs are sexy and that he loves my face, freckles, crooked teeth and all. Even my small boobs, spots of grey hair and all.

So, mothers, love your bodies so your daughters and sons will love them too. We are so guilty of sometimes proclaiming that we feel bloated or fat or have a bad hair day, and surely we are entitled to that, we think, but think of your child, your mentee, your niece, your charge, all listening to those words of self- doubt which may turn into little seeds of self- loathing or a pattern for life-long self-criticism.

We all want happy, healthy, mindful children and we hope we are raising them right. So every day, my kids know that they are lovely, thoughtful, generous, gentle, strong, loving, appreciative, helpful, genuine and kind instead of beautiful, pretty, stunning, slim, or handsome( though my little prince is a self-professed praise junkie).

And oh yes, they have survived many stereotypical situations to do with self-image:

My eldest girl has been classed too black to be Chinese by sales-women in Hong Kong and in KL.

( I tell them I had several husbands, or sometimes I tell them we have Hawaiian blood),

My second daughter gets told she has very Asian eyes and could be Japanese( well did I tell you about the dalliance our fore -mother had with the Emperor?)

Our son gets told he’s very good looking all the time.

( I just tell him not to let it get into his head and no conceit is allowed!)

As for staying fit and healthy, though they are aware of their mum cutting down carbs at dinner time, our family has a fond, fundamental and familial love for cooking and food that they know that not eating is not an option and keeping healthy is. We love it that our three children have healthy, happy appetites and are game for all kinds of cuisine.

Oh, how did we survive body image issues in the 80s? I guess we did survive it all through the heck and lack of it all.

We were lucky not to have the internet. The threatening evil portal where you can be made to feel inadequate, small and ugly. The TV shows of the time did not make me want to do crazy things to myself. I wanted to shoot JR like everyone else, but not myself.

Debbie Gibson and Tiffany just made me want to be wholesome and good.

Unless you are always and constantly keeping your teens in check and that they are lucky enough to have healthy, encouraging peers, or have build a really warm and open relationship with them, it pays to check on the websites and chatrooms that they are on, on their laptops, on their smart phones and in their heads. It's also important to know their friends.

I say this an educator of many teens, and as a self-professed life coach to many students, who in fact gave me that title a few years ago, and as a mother to a teenager, a tween and a 6 year old.

It only takes a tiny nudge before any negative impact on self -body image can spiral completely out of control. Though we are lucky now to have access to psychologists and hospitals which can offer professional help to look after these issues, staying safe is better than sorry.

Love, love, love your children and pray that words like anorexia, bulimia, depression, self-harm and self-loathing are Greek words in your family’s diction.

Every family is different, I know.

Love thyself first and always, and always and forever, keep your children in your circle of faith, hope and love.

---R Dec 10 2013

My real life 'Avatar'

With Mother's Day around the corner, this week's musings will be dedicated to the women in my life.

Today, I plaited my second daughter's hair despite my busy schedule because our maid was at the Filipina embassy getting her re-entry letter for when she comes home after her three week break. It's Tuesday and it's dance class day for my two girls. And I am also teaching some private classes at home. And my second daughter told me to my face that she feels worried when Tita ( 'aunty' in Tagalog) is not at home. This is how much my children have become dependent on her! And me too!( as I race to do a hundred and one things as day.) Too many ands in one sentence. Too many things for one pair of hands to do.

I am bracing myself for less time on the computer, even less sleep and more time in the kitchen and more housework duties in the coming three weeks. ( But I know I will prevail, as many women the world over survive and bloom without any domestic help, so really, I understand that it is no biggie.)

I am not proud to say that after all these years of having lived-in domestic help, I have been spoilt and have become rather 'incompetent' at simple chores- such as cooking ( not just stirring, or making a sandwich, or adding bits here and there but the whole gamut of preparing whole elaborate meals without anyone's help!), cleaning, laundry, ironing, organising the children's stuff.

Yes, I may proclaim to be the queen of multi-taskers but if not for my wonderful domestic help, I would not have the luxury of spending time on my blog, or writing poetry, or catching up properly with my love, helping him with his business decisions,spending quality time with the children, or marking, or planning the next day's lessons or plannning the next family holiday,or looking good on the side for that matter.

Like the everywoman in Malaysia who works and wishes she wears Prada, I depend on my domestic help for many things. Which makes me look really bad. So, today I will tell you why Normie is my light and my star.

Normie, our darling helper for the last 2 and half years is not your average maid. She had worked in Lebanon for 5 years prior to coming here, and briefly in Hong Kong. She has travelled with her previous employer to London and Paris and have been to their holiday homes in Syria and Turkey. Where she worked before, she was one of 6 maids in a large mansion contained in a housing complex, where to get to the other houses they used golf buggies. Her main job was to look after a 4 year old Arabian prince(spell: brat) and a 55 year old cancer patient and she never had to chance to really talk to her employers.

After the 2006 bombings in Lebanon which left her slightly scarred and frightened, she decided to return to the Philipines. But times were always bad, so she had to venture out again and leave her children and husband behind.

It was really karma or fate that brought Normie into our lives. Our first two helpers had been Indon ladies, and were great, until my second one decided to get knocked up at about the time when I was about to pop with Thomas. We had an 'emergency' third Indon one for three months, one who had been rejected by her previous employer but she did a runner on us at 3 months exactly, so whether it was by design or by chance, we would never find out.

Having gone through a pregnant maid then a runaway Indon within three months of each other, I started praying for a really good Filipina maid. So Normie arrived in our lives about two and a half years ago. And she is godsend in everyway. I could sense her positive vibes even in the long-distanced phone interview.

We love it that she is completely unassuming and allows our family complete privacy as she gets on with her daily duties.

She cooks supremely well, bakes and cleans likes a fiend. She will make Martha Stewart green with envy as she is also a decorator extraordinaire and an ever willing learner. After a couple of lessons, she now makes the most delicious tomyam friend bee hoon, the most delectable Thai salads, and the most authentic Penang assam laksa and is absolutely stunning at table arrangements too, so invaluable for dinner parties and soirees that I frequently host. She also weaves a mean fench braid( so my daughter told me that she looks funny today as mummy's braids are loose and rather untidy), sews like a pro because she has had lessons and used to work in a garment factory too. So we are indeed blessed to have her in many ways.

I presented her with a sewing machine sometime last year so she could make some extra money through her sewing. She has been commissioned by my friends to make fabulous curtains and has even sewn uniforms for my kids (& birthday party outfits) and is proud that she is making extra money while under our employ. She manages her time very well, and we go to mass together on Sundays. My children adore her to bits and have voted her the best 'kakak' ever! I am proud to say that we do have a great relationship.

Her focus is very much on her son and daughter, the sole reason why she became a migrant worker in the first place. She has a fundamentally solid relationship with her family, though I sometimes feel sorry for her whenever a phone-call from the Philippines comes through. More often than not, it is for her to send a portion( or the whole) of her salary home to pay for school fees, uniform, a relative's medical fees or a new computer.

Our family has embraced her with all our hearts, only because she is so selfless and kind in every aspect of her life. She doesn't waste her money on trivialities- no mobile-phone, no makeup, no extras,( though I do spoil her with treats- which she saves all for her family.) She says she has everything she needs right here in our home!

We awarded her a hefty raise (& a bonus) after her first two years as she is worth every cent and more. Like we tell her, she is part of our family and our children love her as a true auntie. As family, she has joined us on hols to Borneo, Australia and Bangkok and she treasures these trips as she knows she too is lucky to be with our family. We appreciate the fact that it is a two-way street, this relationship that we have as employer-employee but sometimes prayer-partners and even 'sisters'.

So this Mother's Day, I salute you, Normita Quentin Deri. You, who are ever calm, smiley and regal, and who carry on stoically for us, so that we have a really comfortable existence. My precious helper, PA, guardian angel. Your preseverence and grace will stay with us always.

Happy Mother's Day, Normie dear and may you have a fabulous one with your daughter, Christine and your son, Norman this coming Sunday. You deserve your break.
We shall miss you for three whole weeks but we will prevail.(Haha) The girls have already shown me today how independent they can be on their own.

We wish you all the happiness in the world and would like to thank you from the bottom of our hearts.