My earliest memory of thinking about my body size was in the forth grade on one of my first days as a student of a new school. Up until that point, it had never come up.
My friends came in all shapes and sizes and none of us thought much of it. I’m not sure if it was the age we were at, or being a stranger in a new place, but one of the girls in my new class made a comment about how heavy I was and my whole world shifted.
Looking back now, I was by no means the biggest girl in my class, far from it actually, but I was the newest and the shyest. Regardless of what was fact and what wasn’t, things were never the same again. Fast forward through more than 20 years of struggle, which included, among many other things; self-hate, depression, yo-yo diets, binge eating and starvation, until one day, when I found myself in a loving relationship and about to have a baby. Everything changed again.
I began to see more of the whole picture. I remember the way I felt while I watched close family members let their size chip away at their self-confidence, self-esteem and self-worth. I recalled all the time, thought and energy I had wasted on my obsessive focus on weight. I knew one thing, as I stood with my hand on my 30-some-week, pregnant belly: my children were not going to live like this. Letting the number on the scale, or what you THINK other people think about you, was never going to even be on my kids’ radar.
My husband has a normal, healthy relationship with food and his body. That is what I wanted for my children.
So, I enlisted the help of a counselor and began doing something I do best – research. I would become the role model I wanted for my children.
I did my homework and field tested many strategies. I made a plan, continually reviewed it, and made changes where needed. I started adopting healthy SUSTAINABLE habits and sticking with them. And even more importantly than fixing my physical health, I was working on getting my head right.
No more self-deprecating talk. No more obsession with eating this or not that. No more letting my appearance affect my confidence.
I wanted my children to have all of the time and energy I’ve put into one stupid goal of reaching a magic number on the scale, to be put to much better use. I wanted that for me too.
I look back on all of the things I could have done instead of making myself feel bad over the size written on the tag of my jeans. And I’ve learned that in reality, that number hasn’t even mattered to me. At my fittest and smallest, it was still “never good enough”.
Today, when I look at my 3 year old and 1 year old, I see their perfect little bodies, and their perfect sense of self-worth. I look at my body and see the woman my partner loves and the miraculous body that brought two perfect beings into this world and works hard to care for them each day.
Don’t get me wrong, I am still a work in progress, but I no longer look back at pictures of my 13 year old self and sneer in disgust. I don’t say negative things (aloud – I’m still working on my internal self-talk) about myself. I am a work in progress, but already I’ve grown so much.
If my children were to begin today, to emulate my relationship with my body, I wouldn’t be 100% satisfied (there is always room for growth), but I know that I’ve done well so far. Sometimes when I look in the mirror and smile at myself, I can almost imagine the look of surprise on my 20-something-year old face. That girl NEVER smiled in satisfaction or admiration at her reflection, but this one does. And so will my babies.
Rosy Window Staff