Teach your daughter how to cook kale.
Teach your daughter how to bake chocolate cake made with six sticks of butter.
Pass on your own mom’s recipe for Christmas morning coffee cake. Pass on your love of being outside.
Maybe you and your daughter both have thick thighs or wide ribcages. It’s easy to hate these non-size zero body parts. Don’t. Tell your daughter that with her legs she can run a marathon if she wants to, and her ribcage is nothing but a carrying case for strong lungs. She can scream and she can sing and she can lift up the world, if she wants.
Remind your daughter that the best thing she can do with her body is to use it to mobilize her beautiful soul.
Every word of this is amazing and makes me want to be a parent because this is how I would raise a kid–but then I remember that I am DEEPLY self-absorbed and had nutella for dinner so, never mind.
Footsteps On Concrete 
The minute you have a child, you become absorbed in the new life you created… and together you can have Nutella for dinner.