The other day, I had to give my girls a reality check when it comes to their eating habits and maintaining a healthy weight. Lately, the girls eat junk food like it’s going out of style–ahh, puberty–and after sitting back and observing for a while, I finally decided to speak up.
It didn’t sit well with my oldest. In fact, she was downright pissed at me. Unfortunately, I’m managing to piss her off in a new way each day. At least it seems that way.
As I’m talking to them, I was simultaneously having a conversation with myself inside my brain:
Be careful! Weight is a sensitive subject and I don’t want to give my girls any reason to feel they have a weight problem, which they don’t.
Shut up! It’s my job to teach them about these things and talking about weight with them doesn’t mean they’re suddenly going to think they’re fat.
Ok, smart ass. Who the hell are you to talk to them about healthy eating habits? You’re a fat woman! You’re a f#%!*n hypocrite.
As I hit upon that last point, I wondered if that was the major reason Miss C. was so pissed. She would never say anything like that to me. After all, she values her life. However, I’m sure on some level it went through her brain. She’s not an idiot.
And, I’m not naive.
I am a fat woman. Coming out and saying it is a difficult thing. I’m not sure why. It’s not exactly like I’m in denial. I have eyes. I know what size I wear.
There are times, though, that I almost don’t see it. I wish I could explain it. Most of the time, I see myself as fat–end of story. But, every once in a while, I somehow manage to think of myself beyond my size. I don’t know if it’s “thinking thin” or I alter my perception for a while.
I feel good. I feel confident. I feel attractive.
And, then I see myself in a mirror. Reality staring me in the face. There’s no avoiding it.
It feel sad. I feel disgusted. I feel hopeless.
I wonder how I let it get to this point. I wonder how I’m ever going to go back to the way I used look “back in the day.”
The worst part about it is I used to think I had a weight problem in my teens and early 20s. I was a size 14/16 during those days. Talk about a screwed up perception.
I’d give anything to go back to that girl and tell her “Stop being a stupid shit! You are beautiful. Keep active. Eat healthy. You will never be a size 10, but appreciate what you have now, because if you don’t, this person will get buried beneath a serious weight problem later in life.”
I can’t go back and tell my 15-year-old self the lessons I’ve learned about healthy vs. unhealthy eating and body image. However, I can (and should) share what I’ve learned with my 15 year-old and my 11-year old girls. In fact, I am probably the most qualified person to tell them these things. I know it’s the “do as I say, not as I do” mentality. Yet, I think there is something…real…something powerful by telling my girls, “I screwed up. I’ve made mistakes along the way. You can learn from them. You don’t want to become this. I’m going to help you.”
At least it makes me seem a little less hypocritical.
Selfishly, this will also, hopefully, help me get back on track. I’ve already taken some baby steps in the right direction. I’m back to attending Weight Watcher meetings each week, but I’m struggling with making noticeable changes in my eating habits. I’ve lost almost 20 lbs, so I’m doing something right. But, I know I can do more. I joke that my WW meetings are just like AA meetings, except I can’t give up food for good.
I told my girls I don’t want them to give up “junk food.” An all or nothing mentality was one of the (many) things that led to my weight problem. I suggested that maybe the entire family can work together to make better food choices along the way. They were sort of on board by the time we stopped talking.
I know how they feel. I think these changes are going to be harder for me to make than anyone else.
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