I could simply post about my weight loss and healthy eating journey. But, instead, I'd like to start with how I got to this point. I want to be open and honest. To share what I've gone through as I've never talked about my struggle with being over weight. It's been a long one, too, dating back to first grade I'd say. Maybe even kindergarten. I'm starting this series not to make excuses for myself, or to garner sympathy, but to share with you what I've gone through. Nothing more. Nothing less.
My weight isn't something of which I'm proud. In fact, I'm quite ashamed and embarrassed by it. (Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying over weight people should be ashamed or embarrassed. They shouldn't. That's just how I personally feel, about myself only.) To be this open isn't something I find easy to do. Letting people read this is even harder. And thus begins my series, The "Fat Kid" Tells All.
I can't remember my mom ever trying to teach me good eating habits, portion control, or about eating healthy. We were the typical 1980s family. Meat, potatoes, and some veggies were put on my plate each night, with more to come if I wanted it. Milk, soda, juice, and Kool-Aid were staple drinks, with milk at dinner to build good bones. McDonald's and other fast food existed as a staple in our diets. (My mom doesn't remember this, but my sister does.) Holidays and rewards revolved around food. If you're sad? Eat. Happy? Eat. Pissed off? Pull out the ice cream. Little Debbie, Lays, Coke, Pepsi, Fruit Roll-Ups, Kool-Aid, and Pop-Tarts crammed into the upper shelves of our pantry.My mom would yell at my sister and me not to eat it, but as kids, we just wanted the good stuff. When the doctor would say my weight would even out if I just didn't gain any more, I had no idea how to not gain. At 5, 6, 7 years old, kids just don't know how to eat healthy and maintain their weight on their own. My mom would tell me to just stop eating. That didn't really help the situation as I had no concept of what to actually do about my weight. Just not eating isn't a solution, what should I eat? How much? I wasn't buying the food or making the meals. I had no clue. Kids rely on their parents to help them and control what they eat when they're young.
By the time I was 10, the doctor told me I was just plain fat and that I had to lose. I didn't have the help, support, or knowledge at that age to be able to, so my weight just crept up more and more. Trips to the store for clothes became a nightmare. Never the fun stories of mom and daughter finding cute things to wear. Nope. Total nightmares. I got yelled at for being fat, told I had an odd shape, that I had to lose weight or no one would ever love me, laughed at, and shamed for having to go into the misses section when I wasn't even old enough to hit the junior's department. The cost of the clothes was brought up, too, as misses clothes cost more than the ones in the kids' section. I still have echoes of my mother saying, "You're so fat, if you keep gaining, we won't even be able to find anything that will fit you. You'll have to wear a tent."
Well, I noticed. I was upset. I felt horrible that I wasn't wearing something appropriate and was being inconsiderate to my cousin. I didn't want to be in any pictures. I felt like everyone was starring at me. The fat, inappropriate, horrible kid. I'm sure they weren't. After all, it wasn't about me. People were there to see my cousin get married, not to eye me up and down to see how much I weighed and judge whether or not my dress was up to par. I was 8 or 9 years old at the time, though. So to me, they were.I think my mom had her own issues with weight that were put on her by her own mother. It was a cycle. Her mother had her weigh herself constantly and made her stay at a rather low weight. Food was very restricted for her growing up. Perhaps she never learned good eating habits herself and just went from one extreme to the other with food.
Always the fat kid, I had a hard time making friends. By middle school, we'd moved to a state far away from where I'd been born, where I knew no one. I was firmly in the obese category. When you're amongst kids who have known each other for years, and are the undesirable fat kids, friends are even fewer. I didn't talk much because I didn't have the self esteem to. I figured anything I said, people would hate me. Who would ever like me? That's when the bullying about my weight started as well. No one wanted to pick me in gym class, they'd call me fat and say they didn't want me on their team. They'd argue over who would be stuck with me. Even the gym teacher would make comments. Some of the kids liked to tell me I was as big as a vending machine. They'd sit there and jab at me, pretending there were buttons on my arms or legs. Demanding that their sodas, candy, and chips to come out, saying I'd stolen their money. Teachers ignored it. I sure as heck never told my parents, I was too embarrassed. Back then, bullying wasn't something people stood up against or recognized as being an issue. I had two semi-friends who I later found out weren't friends at all, one just put up with me because her mom made her.
We moved again for my last year of middle school, once again cross country. At my new school, I wasn't bullied as much about my weight, but still had trouble making friends. I threw myself into getting good grades. Getting the highest grades and being the top of my class was my goal. To be honest, I was (and still am) a bit of a geek, immersing myself in history, writing, and music. I read tons of books about anything and everything. The library was my safe haven. The stacks allowed me to hide and just disappear for hours.Since I was so fat, I always felt like I didn't belong and wasn't as worthy as the other kids. Why would anyone want to be friends with me? I still didn't talk much. Honestly, had no idea what to say to kids so they would like me and not hate me or just ignore me. I can't say all of that is due to weight, though. A good part of that came from the depression I battled.
My weight didn't cause the depression, but it sure didn't help. When you already feel like worthless crap, unwanted, like life isn't worth living, and are the odd kid because of your mental illness, being one of if not the fattest kid just makes you stand out even more and feel even crappier.
Coming up next: "The Fat Kid" Tells All: The Teen Years
Note: I am by no means saying or meaning to infer that I have a horrible mother. She had her own issues and struggles to deal with, including the food and body image issues put on her by her own mother. The 80s were also a different time when it came to food. My mom has also changed since the time period I talked about here -- more on that is in a future post.
All photos except series graphic and picture of me are credited to freedigitalphotos.net.
Affiliate Links
