The women on yesterday's Oprah show mentioned that they were trying to teach their daughters how beautiful they were. But then it was revealed that the mothers were beating themselves up every time they looked in the mirror. The teen model would tell her mother how much she hated this body part or that body part, and the mother's response would be, "But you're so beautiful! Look at MY legs [or thighs, or face, or whatever]! They're hideous! But you're beautiful!" The mother could not stand to look at herself in the mirror and would go to great lengths to avoid one.

Is it any wonder then that the girl grew up to hate her own appearance?

Kids don't just listen to what we tell them to do, which is why "Do as I say, not as I do" is not a good way to parent. Kids take in EVERYTHING around them. If you tell them not to smoke, and yet you yourself smoke, chances are your kid is going to start smoking. So why are women surprised when their daughters hate their appearance, when the women are teaching them to hate what they see in the mirror?

Maybe that's why I escaped from this vicious cycle. I was raised from a very early age by my stepmom. We had our issues, like any mother and daughter do. But what she taught me has been priceless.

When my father married Marty, she was gorgeous. At least, that's what we all thought. She had long, thick blonde hair down to her waist (I think it's shoulder-length now), pretty green eyes, and a strong Dutch chin. She has a lovely singing voice, and a laugh that you can hear for miles. She was just 33, and youth and health simply radiated from her.

But she's never been one to primp and preen in front of the mirror. I would tell her all the time how pretty I found her, and instead of saying, "Oh, but I don't like this about myself" and thereby negating my compliment, she would simply smile demurely, and say thank you. I never once heard her put herself down. I think a few times she'd look at herself in the mirror and murmur, "I really ought to lose weight," but she never beat herself up for being fat (which she isn't).

Although she is definitely a woman, Marty's never been very frilly and girly. She wore makeup simply to even out her skin tone and bring out her eyes, but you'd just as likely see her without makeup. She wore jeans and a t-shirt every weekend, probably as a relief from the Navy officer's uniform she had to wear every day. She was never one to follow fashion... but the downside of that is her wardrobe dates from at least the early 1980s!

Don't worry -- she and I are going shopping next week.

The things Marty taught me instead of hating my appearance were things that really matter. She indulged my love of books by taking me to the library every time I wanted to go, and paying off the fines I invariably accumulated. She fostered my love of music by making sure I had private piano and cello lessons, and encouraged me to try out for the Omaha Youth Symphony Orchestra, though I never made it.

I was also very happy to follow in her footsteps. She was fairly nerdy back in the day -- she does have an anthropology degree and a Master's in Library Science, after all! But just by her example of being a successful woman with a husband and a family taught me that being popular in school had nothing to do with reality, that I was just as likely to achieve my goals if I were one of those nerds who sat on the floor during lunch and played Magic: The Gathering -- which is exactly what I did.

So I really have a lot to thank Marty for. She's given me the most precious gift of all, the gift of self-love. Because honestly... how you can love others if you don't love yourself first?

PS -- Happy 60th birthday to my daddy!