Editor’s Pick. Written by Candy Cook.
I’m the mother of two sons. I was 22 when my oldest son was born. I was aware that my sons would grow up in the same world as young girls. The same world that would subject them to body-image doubts and self esteem issues similar to the issues girls face.
My momma raised me with some armor against the superficial expectations that would be placed upon my female body. I have worn makeup only a handful of times in my life. I have never been a slave to fashion or dieting fads, nor have I ever looked in the mirror and seen an ugly person staring back at me. I’m grateful to my momma for raising me the way she did. However, she could have gone a step further and allowed me to see what a real human female body, other than my own, looks like.
My oldest son was born in May, the onset of the summer season. We lived in a secluded home and spent a lot of time nude together. We splashed in the tub together. I held his naked little body against my own skin to breastfeed. I had never felt so comfortable in my own skin as I was being nude with my naked little baby.
