I have never been ashamed of my appearance. Yes, I’m sixty, not a young magazine cover girl, my figure is far from perfect – but I have always accepted myself as I am.

I have wrinkles, a soft tummy, and hips that used to be my pride and now show the years I’ve lived. But all of this is part of my story, my life. And my husband has always said I’m beautiful. Even now, after 35 years of marriage, he can look at me as if we met yesterday.

But recently, everything changed. For the first time in my life, I started to feel ashamed of myself.

It all began with a seemingly innocent photo. My husband and I went to the sea – a rare chance to escape daily routine. We were standing on the beach in swimsuits, he hugged me at the waist, and I was smiling. I wanted to capture the moment and share it with friends on social media.

Yes, I knew the swimsuit highlighted all my “flaws.” But damn, that’s no reason to hide from everyone!

A few hours later, likes and warm comments started appearing: “What a beautiful couple!”, “How wonderful that you’ve been together for so many years!”. I smiled… until I saw my own daughter’s comment.

She wrote: “Mom, at your age, you shouldn’t dress like that. And definitely don’t show off your fat sides. You better delete the photo.”

I froze. As if someone had poured a bucket of ice-cold water over me.

It wasn’t a joke. It was serious. My heart sank. I gave birth to this girl, stayed up nights, fed her, took her to school, helped her get into university… and now she writes this to me.

That’s when I couldn’t take it anymore and did something I don’t regret. Unfortunately, I now have to relearn how to accept and love myself

I stared at the screen for a long time. Then I slowly began to type:

— “Dear, these are our genes. In twenty years, you’ll look the same. And I truly hope that by then you’ll be smart enough not to be ashamed of your body.”

I sent it. Deleted her comment.

But it wasn’t enough. I decided that if she allows herself to publicly humiliate me, I have every right to set boundaries. I stopped answering her calls. When she asked me for money two weeks later, I replied coldly:

— “Oh, sorry, I’ve already spent it all on food. That’s where my fat sides come from.”

She was offended. But honestly, I didn’t care. Maybe I went too far, but in that moment, I was defending myself.

And yes, since then I still catch myself looking at my reflection critically. Sometimes, when wearing a swimsuit, I cover my tummy with a towel.

I’m angry at myself for this – because I know it’s not about the body, it’s about how we women too often let others dictate how we should live and look.

I taught my daughter a lesson, but it seems I still have to learn the most important one myself – how to stop being ashamed of who I am.