I don’t tell Peach she is pretty. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I have ever even called her cute.

Peach is my daughter, a vibrant, thoughtful, critical thinker who loves Pokemon Go and Teen Titans equally. At this moment in her life, Peach prefers animals over people and is a self-professed foodie (as a side note, Peach always warns me before getting “hangry” and yes, she says “hangry.”)

Am I being cruel for not commenting on her appearance? I certainly don’t think so. You see, this move is calculated—the only time I ever really say anything about how she looks is when she asks me or I have to make a parental interference because she’ll either be too hot or cold in what she chose to wear, like wanting to wear long sleeves and sweat pants out in Fresno’s blistering 106 degree weather. And if and when I do say something, I’ll keep it neutral and respond “oh! That looks cool!” or “You look awesome!” immediately followed by “I am happy as long as you like the way you look, honey.”

But, why would I not call her pretty? I suppose it seems odd that a mother would not call her daughter pretty and I would agree with you, it is in fact different than the norm. But the norm has failed women relentlessly, I do not wish to have Peach inherit the conflicting relationship women have with their own bodies. I do not call Peach pretty because I don’t want her to seek validation from others when choosing how SHE in fact wants to look.

I do not call Peach pretty because I want her body to be hers and express itself however it wants without fearing or being concerned about the judgment of others. I’d like to help her build such a solid pillar of self-love and confidence, no person in this entire universe other than herself can choose to bring it down.

And regardless of how committed we as parents are in providing our children with what we each believe to be the necessary life tools, you always wonder as a parent if what you try to teach your children actually sticks. What gets lost in translation? What goes in one ear and out of the other? All the yammering and hammering of what to do and what not to do is bound to sound like white noise once in a while. I have tried my darnedest to ooze a positive self-body image but is she catching on? I don't have the super power to read her mind—a parent's power isn't as all encompassing as we'd like to think.

At six going on seven, Peach will be soon entering into young adolescence, a time where both girls and boys' relationships with their bodies begin to transform for better or worse. More so than ever, I've desperately wanted to know how Peach views her body. Unbeknownst to me, Peach was going to answer my internal inquiry in her own Peachy kind of way.

Not too long ago, Peach and I were taking a drive, listening to our fave, Lana Del Rey’s “Young and Beautiful.” Well, after the song ended, she became eerily quiet and said “Mom, can I tell you something? I don’t think it matters if you are old and not beautiful, it’s whats on the inside that counts, right?" And I tell you, at that very moment, I had such a warm, fuzzy feeling in my heart and little wells of tears in my eyes, I felt so much happiness, no amount of words could encapsulate or express my feelings .

Peach saw me get all kinds of choked up, shrugged her little shoulders and said “what,” as if knowing that age and beauty is the most commonly held belief in the world-like the myth of common-sense, but for Peach, it is. I knew in that moment, I had glimpsed a very intimate part of Peach's view of herself (and others).

Yes, Lana Del Rey, Peach will love you when you are no longer "young and beautiful," she'll love you and herself. And that answer, my friends, is the greatest response a parent to a young girl could ever ask for.