By Tartan Tart
Posted on Sunday, July 3rd, 2016
My family are obsessed with weight and fitness.
Obsessed.
I go home for the holidays and my brothers’ first conversation is whether they’re still visiting the gym regularly, what they’re benching, and how often they get out for a run. Then they get in the car and drive for 3 minutes to the local coffee shop.
My father weighs himself every morning and BEMOANS his lack of weight loss despite going to the gym. On his way home from the gym, he will buy himself a pastry.
The last time I was home I happened to mention that we don’t own a scale and he said that was because I was hiding from my weight.
My mother will eat dinner at my house and decline a whole slice of fish but eat the chips (fries) that we’re serving with it. She will have a dry bagel for lunch because she doesn’t want the extra calories that cream cheese will bring. I grew up with her drinking Slim Fast shakes and eating Lean Cuisine cookies and ready meals. She refused to play in the pool with me because she was self-conscious about her body. I wore a t-shirt in the pool because I became self-conscious about MY body.
You know how kids are either whip skinny or pudgy? I was pudgy. I remember looking at old photos with my mother and one of me at about 13 was in the pile. She said “Wow, you were such a fat kid.”
I put on weight in college, I guess, but lost it during a semester abroad. The first time my mother saw me after that semester she was thrilled at my weight loss and said that she had been worried that I would be fat forever.
She theorised to me a few years ago that the reason I put on weight was because it’s colder where I live now and that my body needed the extra insulation to keep warm. Yes, she actually vocalised that to me.
I have had to tell her to never comment on my appearance – ever. The only weight I gained in pregnancy was baby-related and I was back to my normal size again very quickly. My mom wants to tell me how great I look but all I can hear is, once again, chat about my weight.
Guess what, family: I am happy with my appearance. I make healthy food choices but also battle with emotional eating. I am normal. I don’t want your approval bordering on surprise at how good I look. I don’t want to hear about how you are ALWAYS watching your weight while you drink half a bottle of wine every night. I resent the memories I have of my youth when you encouraged me to eat that second ice cream bar but then talked about how fat I was as a child. I know you didn’t do it on purpose but I have had to FIGHT against your negativity, and I’m done. I have grown up. I turned out ok.
I am happy. Let’s just leave it at that, ok?
About the Author:
I’m an American expat in the UK which results in an interesting mix of UK and US pronunciation, spelling and word usage (tomato still rhymes with potato, though). I like to cook but not wash up, to garden but not weed, and am a (not terribly) closeted hippy. I have PCOS and shout from the rooftops about the mix of Eastern and Western medicine which resulted in my most amazing little dude.
Obsessed.
I go home for the holidays and my brothers’ first conversation is whether they’re still visiting the gym regularly, what they’re benching, and how often they get out for a run. Then they get in the car and drive for 3 minutes to the local coffee shop.
My father weighs himself every morning and BEMOANS his lack of weight loss despite going to the gym. On his way home from the gym, he will buy himself a pastry.
The last time I was home I happened to mention that we don’t own a scale and he said that was because I was hiding from my weight.
My mother will eat dinner at my house and decline a whole slice of fish but eat the chips (fries) that we’re serving with it. She will have a dry bagel for lunch because she doesn’t want the extra calories that cream cheese will bring. I grew up with her drinking Slim Fast shakes and eating Lean Cuisine cookies and ready meals. She refused to play in the pool with me because she was self-conscious about her body. I wore a t-shirt in the pool because I became self-conscious about MY body.
You know how kids are either whip skinny or pudgy? I was pudgy. I remember looking at old photos with my mother and one of me at about 13 was in the pile. She said “Wow, you were such a fat kid.”
I put on weight in college, I guess, but lost it during a semester abroad. The first time my mother saw me after that semester she was thrilled at my weight loss and said that she had been worried that I would be fat forever.
She theorised to me a few years ago that the reason I put on weight was because it’s colder where I live now and that my body needed the extra insulation to keep warm. Yes, she actually vocalised that to me.
I have had to tell her to never comment on my appearance – ever. The only weight I gained in pregnancy was baby-related and I was back to my normal size again very quickly. My mom wants to tell me how great I look but all I can hear is, once again, chat about my weight.
Guess what, family: I am happy with my appearance. I make healthy food choices but also battle with emotional eating. I am normal. I don’t want your approval bordering on surprise at how good I look. I don’t want to hear about how you are ALWAYS watching your weight while you drink half a bottle of wine every night. I resent the memories I have of my youth when you encouraged me to eat that second ice cream bar but then talked about how fat I was as a child. I know you didn’t do it on purpose but I have had to FIGHT against your negativity, and I’m done. I have grown up. I turned out ok.
I am happy. Let’s just leave it at that, ok?
About the Author:
I’m an American expat in the UK which results in an interesting mix of UK and US pronunciation, spelling and word usage (tomato still rhymes with potato, though). I like to cook but not wash up, to garden but not weed, and am a (not terribly) closeted hippy. I have PCOS and shout from the rooftops about the mix of Eastern and Western medicine which resulted in my most amazing little dude.
