By Kristen Pind

I was one of those children who decided when puberty hit that I was ugly.

I hated my hair, my body, my skin tone, even my voice. I stopped wearing shorts at age 13 and started sweating it out in jeans at summer camp and riding my bike. At 14, I stopped even attempting to buy a swimsuit and just watched in my jeans as everyone else enjoyed the pool.

It took a very good friend and eight years before I bought and wore another pair of shorts again, and it took another four years to realize that I didn't give a damn what everyone thought. I'm a healthy 31-year-old woman who has had two kids, stretch marks and cellulite, and that baby roll on my stomach that I hear will never go away, I'm OK with that.

As I type this today I'm wearing a dress that hits just above my knees, something I never would have done five years ago. I thought about it just once before I walked out the door. "Do my knees look fat," I asked my husband. "No," he said as he rolled his eyes at me, and that was that.

I've decided many things in my life, but the decision to not give a damn about what other people think has been the best one, besides marrying Max, of course. I would love to say that I no longer worry about what others think of me, but I'm human and female, so of course I do. I still have fleeting thoughts before I walk out the door, like I did this morning. I especially have a mini freak-out session when it comes to being out in public in my swim suit, but because I want to promote a positive body image for my 3-year-old daughter, I push those thoughts to the side and enjoy this 90-degree weather in a dress instead of long pants.

I decided to give her something to strive for when I overheard a stranger in the store tell her preschooler that she needed to stop eating so much junk that her thighs were getting jiggly. This lady then proceeded to look at herself in the mirror and tear herself apart as her young, impressionable daughter watched.

I have worked, and continue to work, very hard so that I don't have those thoughts about myself. I don't want Felicity to ever consider herself sub-par like I did. As parents, Max and I tell her she is smart and beautiful as often as humanly possible because we want her to be as confident as her brother is in all things, including her appearance.

It's a small step, but I'm hoping my baby can see how much we love her, how much I love myself, and decide she loves herself, too. It still will be hard, but I am hopeful our love and support, and my willingness to just be me no matter what, will allow her to ignore this perfection-crazed world and just be herself.

So, grab those shorts and tank tops, pull on your swim suit and enjoy life, because even if you aren't aware, someone is always watching, and you could make a difference.