Wouldn’t it be great if we all had a mirror, mirror on the wall that told us WE were the fairest of them all?

Instead, we get bombarded with TV shows and magazine headlines that tell us we’re not quite good enough: Lose 10 pounds in two weeks! You, too, can have a booty like J.Lo! (like you didn’t already have a hard enough time finding jeans that fit). Notice the “not” in “What Not to Wear.” And, um, “The Swan,” anyone? Need I say more?

It’s no wonder women are never quite satisfied with the way we look. But what’s even worse is when teens and tweens aren’t satisfied with their appearance/wardrobe/handbag. Does a 12-year-old really need a Dooney & Bourke bag? Should a preteen be on a diet? And who came up with the bright idea of thongs for little girls?

This week, instead of writing about fabulous fall fashions, cute purses and jeans I can’t afford, I’m writing about something money can’t buy: self-image.

After a speech I gave to a local women’s group recently, a grandmother approached me afterward and bemoaned the sad state of affairs with today’s young women. But not in your typical “what’s up with kids these days?” way. Her objections had less to do with long hair, piercings and rock ‘n’ roll and more to do with obsession with weight, revealing clothes and a lack of strong female role models.

I couldn’t agree more. Why? Because I’ve been there. And I’ve always been surrounded by strong women. In college, I couldn’t deal with my weight and I could barely put together a decent outfit. When I first got my job, writing for the newspaper, there was a lingering thought at the back of my mind that I didn’t deserve it. Things have drastically improved since then, but self-doubt still rears its ugly head from time to time. Even when I’m wearing my most flattering jeans and carrying my most swanky purse.

See, positive self-image doesn’t come from low-rise Sevens and down-to-there tops. It isn’t hidden in the depths of your Prada bag, buried beneath your iPhone and your Tiffany key chain. It doesn’t improve with every fifth pound you lose or every wrinkle you erase.

Blame it on train wrecks such as Paris and Lindsay and Britney. Blame it on the media. Blame it on me, if you want. But rather than play the blame game, I’d rather focus on what we, as adult men and women, can do to change it.

Everyone who has ever had a daughter, niece, granddaughter or young female friend knows it’s more complex than saying, “Gee, honey, you look great today.” If I had believed my grandmother every time she told me how beautiful I was, I’d be more vain than the queen of mean in “Snow White.”

The key to accepting what’s on the outside starts with celebrating what’s on the inside. And we, as adults, are a big part of that. I’m fortunate enough to work with several phenomenal parents of several phenomenal girls. They’ve done many things right, but one of the best things they’ve done for their children is to let them be children. These kids read and play games and kick soccer balls. They don’t look like Bratz dolls.

Teenagers are supposed to push the envelope, dress like college girls, wear too much makeup and do strange things to their hair. They’re almost mature enough to comprehend what their hormones are telling them to do. An 8-year-old is not.

We dress our children. We buy their clothes. But beyond clothing and makeup, there’s still a lot of work to do when it comes to the girls in our lives. Instead of spending all of our time talking about how pretty they are, which they are, of course, let’s talk about how smart, funny and athletic they are.

Let’s ditch the Bratz, pause the Lindsay Lohan flick, put away the entry-level Dooney bag and show these gals something really cool: all the things they can do. Teach them how to write. Show them how to hit a baseball. Cook a meal together, like Grandma’s lasagna recipe from the old country, not a low-carb, no-fat cardboard-flavored mess. Go for a walk – not a calorie-burning speed walk, but a stroll through the woods, just because.

Introduce them to some real role models, like Maine’s own Angela Adams, the little designer that could. Or Susan Collins and Olympia Snowe – no matter what your political leanings are, you have to admit Maine has two strong women on the Hill. Give her a book by Edna St. Vincent Millay, Camden’s famous poet.

Yes, you can take them shopping, too. Maybe you’ll find one of those mirrors I talked about earlier. If you do, let me know. I’d love to have one.