The Perils of Navigating Dieting Lifestyle Changes While Raising Little Girls

So, this article gave me quite the sad, and a bit of rage-face as well.

Mom Puts 7-Year-Old on a Diet in the Worst Vogue Article Ever

Be warned, it could be a bit triggering for both both eating disorders and child abuse.  The article basically outlines how this woman was concerned about her somewhat chubby seven-year-old and instead of taking a reasonable route like buying some healthier snacks and maybe putting the kid into dance lessons or team sports, she decided to send her kid on the path to a life-time of disordered relationships with food by putting her on a strict diet and brow-beating and shaming said kid for going off said diet.

And then selling her story to Vogue.

Little girls are under so much pressure from such a young age.  I have to wonder how much we help perpetuate it.  Hell, half the time we aren't even cognizant of the way the media constantly picks at us and tells us how we can be thinner, younger, smoother, and all other manner of adjectives, so how do we know when we are pushing these same unrealistic ideals on our daughters and more importantly how do we cushion them against the same toxic messages when we DO recognize them?

This is something I've struggled with along my weight-loss journey.  I try to recognize what kind of messages about self-image and self-worth I am sending to my daughters, who are at the particularly vulnerable ages of 8 and 10.  The way I negotiate my own weight-maintenance can have long-reaching effects on their own relationships with food and their bodies.

I try to be mindful about emphasizing how I want to feel, that is, healthier and more confident.  I hate when they see me weigh myself, and I tend to wear a pokerface if they are around, regardless of whether I like the number I see or not. In a house full of girls, privacy in the bathroom hasn't been a huge issue so sometimes they will walk in while I weigh myself.  Point being, I don't want them to get the idea that whether or not I have a good day or bad is tied in with whether I am feeling fat that day.

When dealing with food choices I try to always speak in terms of some foods being 'better for you' rather than relying on a 'good/bad' dichotomy.  I don't want them to feel guilt for having treats, or to berate themselves for not always choosing the 'healthy' option.  I do enjoy the idea of 'sometimes' foods.

If I have to restrict them on some items (for example, we can have cookies.. but we're not going to have six cookies in a day) I don't EVER frame restriction in terms of the "EFF" word (eep.. FAT!) because I want to keep them from worrying about their weight as soon as humanly possible.  Instead, I'll limit them to two or three a day because "Mommy isn't made of money and can't go buying cookies all the time!"

Financial insecurity is better than Body image insecurity, isn't it?  I sure hope so.  I'd rather see them grow up annoyingly cheap than with a life-threatening eating disorder.

I love my mom to death, but I will acknowledge that watching her struggle with her weight as I grew up, as well as the on-going concerns for my own health that were often expressed, not maliciously mind you, in terms of my weight when the real concern was not how much I ate, but the fact that I ate shit, did a number on both my body image and my relationship with food.  And I have tied a lot of my self-worth in with my weight.  I didn't totally internalize it, but I did spend a lot of time under the impression that I was A) grossly fat and that B) this meant I was a less worthy human being.

Just to clarify, because like I said, my mom is awesome and I don't want to pin it all on her.  She never said I was less worthy because I was overweight, but that is how I felt.  The truth is, these are the kinds of messages we are bombarded with every single day so that even many people who don't have a 'weight problem' per se see themselves as potentially fat, which to some is a fate worse than death.

No seriously.

Bea Beautiful posted about a woman a while ago who cited 'getting fat' as her worst fear.  Worse than shark attacks, worse than giant spiders, worse than being bludgeoned to death by an friggin' axe murderer.

That, my friends, is some fucked up, if y'all will pardon my French.

This is what I want to avoid for my children.  I don't want them to fear getting fat.. not because it 'won't ever happen' to them because it totally could.  But if it ever does, I want them to know they are still worthy human beings.  Whether we all here succeed on our respective journeys to lose weight and/or be healthier we are all worthy human beings and deserve to love ourselves as we are and as what we become in the future.

I want my girls to know that they are worthy, no matter their size and I think the longer I can keep them from thinking negatively about their body and reinforcing that they are beautiful inside and out, then maybe the idea of unconditional worth will stick with them.

I can only hope.

Pigging Out

Many of you know that I'm from Texas and damn proud of it! Being a Texan, and specifically a small-town, Southeast Texan, means BBQ, gumbo, fried everything and bake sales at the local high school. Yum right? Food has been an important part of my life since forever. My mom is an amazing cook, whipping up recipes passed down for generations. We're talking pies made with sticks of butter and heavy cream, cinnamon chocolate layer cakes, slow-cooked beef tips and noodles (my favorite), and various other dishes that make me salivate just visualizing them. I'm proud that I come from a long line of fantastic home cooks. My dad is a chili cookoff champion! He loves to cook and show off his recipes whenever he can.

That's not always good!

In Texas we do everything big. I'm sure you've heard that before and if you're a Texan, you know it's true. Our food is even bigger, for Pete's sake. Seriously...have you ever seen a chicken fried steak prepared in a Texas restaurant? It hangs off of the plate and is smothered in cream gravy. It's the land of, "Honey, getcha some more of that_____". That blank can be filled with any number of foods, potato salad, baked beans, fried okra, etc. It's hard to resist all of these things and I always thought, "One more little taste won't hurt". Those "little tastes" add up quick. Real quick.

Yes, please!

My mom tells the story of what a good baby I was. As long as I had my bottle I was happy. Geez! Even as a baby I loved eating! Am I predisposed to being overweight? Is it genetics? Who the hell knows! My mom is thin. My sister is thin, though we have different fathers and apparently the father I never knew had all the "fat genes" on his side. Thanks a lot for that (among countless other things), asshole. I can tell you this, I still love to eat. I'm not picky. I love vegetables, fruit, meat, sweets. You name it. There are very few things (broccoli yuck!), you can serve me that I won't love. Unless it's some weird part of an animal and then we may have an issue. So, even though genetics probably played a part in this, I can't blame my genes for the fact that I love to eat.

Fuck you, Mirror!

I have a love/hate relationship with food, just like I'm guessing my girls here on the blog do. That's most likely true for anyone battling their weight. I could sit and eat brisket or tacos or hamburgers or pie, day in and day out. I'd feel so good when they touch my taste buds! Then... I'd beat myself up for "being a pig". I'd look in the mirror after I downed a dessert that I didn't need and feel like shit because of the "pig face" I see. That's my go-to insult for myself. Pig face. I hate the pig face. I hate my mirror. Fuck you, Mirror! How can I do this to myself over and over and over again? I know that when I eat something that's not good for me that I'll feel guilty and punish myself mentally. So why the fuck do I keep doing it? I don't know. I really don't know.

I never really had issues with food growing up because I was an athlete and I would burn off whatever I ate. It was when I got older and the ol' metabolism slowed down and I had to have a hysterectomy, that the pounds added up and I started this cycle of eating whatever I wanted and then beating myself up afterward. When I had to begin a plethora of medications for CRPS and was unable to exercise like before, I took notice of what I was eating, but it didn't stop me from having that pie or whatever. It feels so good to indulge doesn't it? Everything tastes like the best thing you ever ate when you know you shouldn't have it, right? How can it be so bad for me, when it tastes so good? That pisses me right the fuck off. When broccoli starts to taste like chocolate, I'll start eating it. Ha!

No pig face for me!

I'm getting better at choosing the right things to eat. I'm trying to eat things that are baked or grilled, rather than fried or covered in creamy sauces. It's tough eating out, but I'm trying y'all. I'm trying. I don't want to look in the mirror anymore and see a pig face. I want to see the woman I used to think was pretty. I want to feel pretty again. I'm hopeful that sharing my ups and downs with all of you will help me say goodbye to the pig face forever. Say it with me...Fuck off, Pig Face!!