Food Love, Body Hate, and Powerful Parenting without Shame

I was 12 when my mom took me to a Merle Norman makeup lesson. Models were getting their photos taken.

That’s how I learned how to put on subtle (HAH! but it was the 80’s!) blue mascara, and also that I wasn’t as skinny as those girls.

“I want to lose five pounds,” I said when we’d gotten in the car.

“Good idea,” she said.

***

At one point in my life, I could gain five pounds by eating a single (large) plate of Mexican food.

I know because back then, I weighed myself several times a day. I ate a lot of air sandwiches, an occasional salad, and a bunch of fat-free cottage cheese and celery.

On date night though? I went all out. You’d think it’d be the opposite, but for me, being skinny and “being able to eat whatever” held power.

Plus?

There’s nothing like a plate of saucy, cheesy, gooey, dreamy Mexican food. Or Chinese. Or pizza.

Stuffed mushrooms (not like these)? Yummy!

Nachos, anybody? MMMM.

I keep a pair of jeans (ok fine, two) that I can’t part with and am sure I’ll never wear again.

I miss feeling that power. Hungry, but thin.

***

About 12 years ago, I found an envelope of old photos of me and my mom.They were stunning black and whites on old super-thick photo paper.

She’s pregnant, so I must have been four.

I look at it and see my so-young self and wish I’d never let go of feeling hunger or the lack of it a young child feels.

I didn’t feel fat or thin back then. Just hungry or not-so-hungry. Or not in the mood to eat.

I’m almost always in the mood to eat today.

I framed and hung one of the photos on my bathroom wall. It reminds me I don’t need to weigh myself every day because when you’re this age, you don’t think about stuff like that. Except, you know, getting big is good.

Old suits don’t fit, and I gave most away a couple of years ago. I kept one I’d bought as a special treat because it has my name embroidered on the inside of the jacket pocket. I’m sure I’ll never wear it again.

These days, I balance what I eat but am not thin. I had to get new bras and baggy shirts because there’s no sucking in backfat. I’m (mostly) okay with how I look now.

I’m not super-okay when I see photos or surprise reflections, but I’m almost 50 years old, and have learned that our bodies change without our permission.

***

When Tucker was born, he was 110% height, and 18% weight. I panicked about him not eating. He was so skinny he had a baby six-pack where others have little pudge-packets.

Later, he still didn’t eat much.

Today, he has a bit of a double chin, and could be described as “husky.”

It worries me, but I don’t want him to think about it. I want him to eat when he’s hungry and know when he’s not.

I talk about how “his body” probably needs protein after football practice rather than saying “hell no, you aren’t having carbs at this hour!”

We talk about getting fresh air, rather than exercise.

That’s as good as I know how to do to keep food love in, body hate out, and powerful parenting without shame the idea. Any suggestions? I’d love to hear them.

***

This has been a Finish the Sentence Friday post, old-school style. This is a stream-of-consciousness post where you write for five minutes about the suggested prompt. This week’s is “Food.” Kenya G. Johnson of Sporadically Yours is our fabulous co-host each week. I’m sure she forgives me for adding photos and stuff because how can I not when it’s hanging on my bathroom wall (and also nachos)?

PS – If Dana asks, I’m going live early because Kenya did and I’m pretty sure she wants to go to bed. I asked her to wait to put in the code so I wouldn’t be last. Ok fine, so I’d be first or close to it.