I remember the exact moment my relationship with food was f-ed up.
I was 12 and one of my favourite relatives was due at our house for dinner that night. I was so excited to see her that I ran up to her as soon as she arrived, not even waiting until she has made it all the way up our driveway, before I gave her a big hug and a kiss.
She stepped away from me with a furrowed brow, looked me up and down and with a look of repulsion on her face said, “You’ve put on weight. You all have.”
At least in my 12-year-old brain she looked repulsed, or disgusted, or even just disappointed. She was always so happy to see me, so affectionate and complimentary.
I was devastated.
The saddest part about the whole thing was that I didn’t even question her reaction. I believed her. I had put on weight and as a result, I was disgusting.
Weight = being disgusting.
I’ve had a fractured relationship with food ever since.
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I really understand where you're coming from here and it's so so hard. I can't remember a time where my mum was happy with her weight or her size. Even at a 10 she was unhappy. As a girl with a bigger build that always translated into me being fat. If mum wasn't happy then of course, being bigger than her I couldn't be happy with my body either. My sister is the same. I've fluctuated up and down a lot my whole life, not helped by my thyroid going hyper and a teenage pregnancy. Now at 22 I'm probably the biggest I can remember being. I think I'm still slightly under 100kg but I'm too scared to check.
The hardest thing to manage though is my own criticism. My son is 4 and autistic so he remembers everything. I try so hard not to let him see the displeasure on my face at my appearance but I'm sure it shows more than I'd like. I don't want him to think that real women aren't supposed to look like this. Personally I'm not happy with my size but I know theres a large number of women who are my size or bigger and they are beautiful. I don't want him to hold women to the standards that I hold myself to (and fail). I also don't want him to be unhappy with his own size or appearance. I don't want him to hate himself.
At the moment I think it's ok and not too bad. My boy loves my stretch marks and says they're from him growing big and strong in my tummy. He loves mummy cuddles and he tells me he thinks I'm beautiful. I really hope that view stays with him, and more than that, that he thinks I and other women are beautiful not because of their weight or size or physical attributes, but for accomplishments and personality and a kind heart. I really want him to believe that its the inside that's the important part
The old emotional eating thing, it's a tough one, isn't it? Something I'm working on now too. Good luck, sounds like you're trying really hard to be a good example for your kids.