Madre wants me to thank you all for the sweet and thoughtful comments on her post… she’d reply to you all individually, but she just barely learnt herself how to turn on her computer… KIDDING!!!!!! She knows I josh… most of the time it isn’t so much funny joshing… but what’s a girl to do when she ain’t getting paid to put on her show!?
As mentioned in yesterday’s blog, today I’m blogging my point of view of “die”ting as a 7-year-old. At the age of 7, I couldn’t have been more than 25 or so pounds overweight… but when living in a house with 3 skinny people, I was the fat one… and when you’re the fat one, you get thy buttest takest to thy Weight Watchers meeting! I hated going to those meetings. First of all… I was 7… and instead of heading to the daycare area to play with the other kids, I stood in the cattle prod line to get weighed in and then sat on a hard chair and listened to a lecture I didn’t understand… good golly… at that age I was having a hard time understanding Fraggle Rock.
At home, the good food that was really bad food was still purchased for the rest of the family. I wasn’t allowed to have that food on my “die”t, and so it would be hidden. I always protested saying things like, “but Lindsay got a cookie” and the answer would always be, “Lindsay doesn’t have to lose any weight.” I didn’t understand that… I was sure it was some sort of conspiracy to make Whitney eat bad-tasting leafy food and Lindsay would get to live in the gumdrop forrest. So, as I’ve mentioned before, I would sneak into the food. I’d wait to be left alone in the house and when I was, I’d spend my time searching for the stash of goodies and then I’d lie about ever being in it… because it was easier that way. If I told the truth, why yes I just ate 25 cookies and a box of crackers, I would be punished… grounding, spanking, etc. There was always a lot of tension between my mother and I. It seemed like my sneaking into food and/or eating food that wasn’t allowed was our only topic of conversation. I’d spend my time trying to get better at lying/hiding my food scores and mom would spend hers figuring out what I had eaten behind her back.
She was frustrated that I couldn’t seem to stick to the “die”t for more than 25 seconds and I was frustrated that I couldn’t eat what I wanted to. Eating in front of my family became a bad experience… I begged for a second helping and never got it. It was much easier eating in secrecy locked away in the bathroom or in the closet. The coat rack doesn’t tell you to put that 2nd roll back (that would be one awesome coat rack if it did… someone needs to invent that!) At one point, mom got so desparate that after one instance where we had eaten at a buffet with a bunch of extended family members and I had eaten more than my fair share, she told me that she was “embarrassed,” that people thought she was a bad mother because I ate my weight in fried chicken.
For the record, I know my mom loved me… I KNOW she did and I know she was trying her best to help me, because I didn’t come with a set of instructions and she had no previous mothering experience… unless you count the ranch animals when she was a kid.
The turning point happened at about the age of 16 or 17… we went to a therapist together… mom and daughter, trying to get some sort of handle on my weight. I thank God every day that my mom was born with the gift of an open mind and a contrite spirit. The therapist told her in that session that she should totally back off of obsessing over what I ate… and from that point on… she did. There were a few mishaps and it took many years for me to trust that she wasn’t judging me when I ate… standing over my shoulder ready to scold me for spreading on too much Miracle Whip… and I was paranoid… because that’s all I had known up to this point. But, she backed off… and in the process our bond grew stronger because we weren’t always talking about taboo food and she wasn’t scolding me for ordering the wrong thing on the menu… and she truly became someone I could go and talk to… there is no one more comforting than my mother. I don’t know many people who could drop their stubborn pride and do an about face turn like my mom did. I could tell she was working on it and she genuinely wanted to be better… and I love her for that.
Today, I’d count her my best friend. She has been uber supportive and encouraging and I am able to eat in front of her again, without the fear that I’ll be sent to my room for eating something that wasn’t root-like and tasteless. This weekend is Mother’s Day and I want my mom to know that I am proud of her and how far she has come in regards to me and my “demons.” There was a time when I blamed my mother for my weight gain… too many years of that… but all that did was cause bitterness in me and I had to come to a point where I took responsibility for my own actions. Only then, was my mind freed to lose the weight. Happy Mother’s Day, Madre… I love you!
Question of the Day: What is your mother’s best quality?
Note: Thank you all for having the patience to read my ramblings and leave comments. It is much appreciated and I simply adore you all! Happy Mother’s Day to all of you mothers who read this blog. Sit down, relax, and make your kids wait on you come Sunday! See you again Monday for another round of nonsense!