Fat Girl in a Skinny Girl’s Body

The only time I can remember NOT thinking about weight is before age 10 or 11. I vaguely knew that my mom struggled with weight but I didn't look at my mom and think anything about it. She was my mom and I loved her. She was funny and creative and I loved to hug her. I still do. I never thought of her as being anything but just Mommy and she never really let on that her weight bothered her that I can remember, unless someone said something unkind to her. My grandma on my Dad's side (God love her) was notorious for making remarks about my mom's weight, and eventually my sister's weight as she got older. My grandma is gone now, but I am sure (and I choose to believe) she said things out of concern and love for them… that said, I am also quite sure it did not feel that way. Let's get real. No matter how kindly someone makes a comment about eating habits, weight, health, hair-dos or hemlines… it NEVER feels like it is out of concern. We, as women; hear: undisciplined, fat, lazy tramp having a bad hair day… that is just the way it is. So no matter how she sliced it, I know my mom's feelings were hurt and even though not much was said outright about it- I learned at a very early age that being overweight was something to be avoided. I should add here that through my entire life men have always flirted with my mother- ALWAYS. She has this magnetic personality. My sister and brother were lucky enough to inherit this funny-charming gene, but not me. I took her to Italy a couple years ago and it was the same story over there. All she has to do is smile and flash her baby blues and men smile, wink, talk, nod…. At almost 70 she beats me in the unsolicited attention of strange men hands down. This is probably one reason her weight never really occurred to me until much later in life. It just wasn't an issue for her in any of the conventional ways. I am not saying it was never on her mind; I wouldn't go that far- she is a woman living in this Eye-Candy World, but she never let it show. She was always confident, unlike her oldest daughter… which brings me to the next problem:

Enter puberty.

I can remember the day pretty well considering it was more than 35 years ago. I was 13 years old. I had always had issues with my stomach, so up until then I was a scrawny kid. Nowadays I call it the "Field's Stomach" – (my maiden name) because my boys have it too and my dad ate so many Tums and Alka-Seltzer we should have bought stock, but I am not really sure it goes back any further than that. I was a nervous kid that internalized my feelings. I had frequent migraines that put me in bed or on the bathroom floor, and like most kids; I didn't eat much- only what I really, really liked. I often think about how much that has changed over the years. I will eat things that I don't really care for, that aren't cooked how I want them and that don't really taste good. I don't know when that started. The lesson here is don't train your kids to over eat. Let them stop when they are full. I watch my youngest grandbaby Leah eat and think that I could really learn something from her. She stops when she is full (believe me, you can't force one more bite in…) and if she doesn't like something she either gives it to my standard poodle or very slyly sticks it next to her on the seat of the high chair…. Or puts it on top of her head, you know; whatever works.

You have to understand that I DEARLY loved my grandparents. My grandpa was my "boyfriend" (self-proclaimed) until I was 15. I thought he was the star, moon and Milky Way. He was handsome, dressed dapper and always smelled like great pipe tobacco. He felt similar about me- minus the pipe tobacco of course, so he in every way meant what he said to me that day as a compliment. But that isn't what the Fat Girl inside of me heard and since I didn't know her yet, she snuck up on me.

This is what he said:

"Honey, you are really filling out and becoming a young lady."

What I heard:

"Honey, you are really getting chubby and becoming a Fat Girl."

Now it may seem strange for a grandfather to make a comment like that but I was SO skinny prior to puberty, everybody over 40's mission was to get me to eat…. so I think he was complimenting me out of relief. Unfortunately, what he did was start a downward spiral that would control the better part of next 12 years of my life as I plummeted headfirst into Bulimia. There is barely a day that goes by that I don't miss my grandparents, but today I am glad he isn't here to read this because I know it would kill him. He loved me, I was his girl.

From that moment on my view of myself physically was skewed. I felt like my Fat Girl was clamoring to come out and I started on a mission to keep her in line. No matter what the mirror reflected, I saw fat. No matter what the tag in my clothes said, I saw Too Big. Little did I know what the next 12 years would bring and how long it would take me to rein in the Fat Girl's voice. And even though most days these 35 yrs later, she is silent… or at least whispering; I can still pass by a mirror on a jewelry counter in a store and she screams at me.

"Look at that double chin."

"Who's following you?? Oh, wait that is your BUTT!"

And on and on and on she rants. Until, I find the duct tape.

When I started on the road to NOT forcing my fingers down my throat anymore; I was 23 years old; had a 9 month old baby AND a 2 yr. old. I will tell you more of that story as we travel along, but for now onto the "duct tape" God gave me one day during devotions:

" You formed my inward parts;

You covered me in my Mother's womb.

I will praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made,

Marvelous are your works.

And that my soul knows very well.

My frame was not hidden from You,

When it was made in secret,

and skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.

Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed.

And in Your book they all were written,

The days fashioned for me,

When as yet there were none of them." Psalm 139: 13-16



Take that Fat Chick. Stick that in your Pie Hole and chew it.

God knew me and planned me. I may not be where I am supposed to be yet- But He knows the road I will travel because He chose it. I may never be a size 6. For that fact I may never see the inside of my 8's again… (heavy sigh) oh well. Maybe there is a bigger lesson to be learned here when I feel that I am listening to the lies of the Fat Girl again. But that is probably a story for another day- for now at least, she is quiet. I really do love me some duct tape.