what is the best at-home insemination kit?
I started my first diet at the tender age of seven, despite not being overweight at all. I was an active and healthy child, with sun-kissed skin and scraped knees to show for it. The excitement of dieting stemmed from the fact that my mom and I were doing it together. From the exercise videos she played on the VCR daily to our morning yoga sessions and the aerobics classes I attended with her at the gym, decked out in leotards and leg warmers, I idolized her. I seized every opportunity to emulate her.
While she never explicitly stated that being fat was shameful, the message was unmistakable. She stopped wearing shorts in her mid-thirties, claiming her legs were “too heavy” and “too veiny” due to the small spider veins caused by pregnancy. Yet, she often boasted about weighing less than a hundred pounds when she married my dad, even after having two kids. I suspect the weight she gained weighed more heavily on her self-esteem than on her actual physique, as to anyone else, she epitomized the ’80s body ideal—slim and fit.
Her own mother, my grandma, was overweight, and I cherished her for it. Grandma’s comforting, soft body, her warm embrace, and cozy lap were always welcoming. But the narrative I absorbed from both my mom and grandma was about how beautiful Grandma had once been. “She wasn’t always fat,” my mom would say, as if that were a redeeming quality. A picture of Grandma from her younger days hung on their wall, showcasing her beauty, framed by vibrant lipstick and a stylish hairdo. It was as if that image portrayed a version of her that no longer existed. The unspoken truth was clear—I understood that she was deemed prettier back then.
In eighth grade, my mother took me to a counselor because she believed I was overeating. I may have gained a few pounds, which is common during adolescence, but she never considered that I might have been eating with abandon because we were struggling financially. After my father left, we relied on food stamps and boxes of canned goods. When food was available, I knew it wouldn’t last long, so yes, I may have eaten it quickly—preparing for the inevitable days when our cupboards would be empty. I wonder if she realized the social pain I felt when a friend’s parents said she couldn’t spend the night because we “didn’t have any food.”
Eating was a mixed bag—when there was food, life was good, but when it was scarce, it felt like a disaster. Yet, eating made me fat, which was also seen as a negative.
I never had the opportunity to cultivate a healthy relationship with my body or food—not a single chance.
My mother recognizes this as a generational curse. “I used to be terrified of gaining weight,” she tells me now that she has accepted—if not embraced—her body shape. She recalls her mom crying while trying on bathing suits, and how they would share warnings about weight gain over tea. My mom, a skinny child, felt self-conscious about her protruding collarbones. Loved ones worked diligently to ensure she didn’t share the fate of previous generations, inadvertently passing down the same fears.
Decades of trying to dodge the “threat” of weight gain led her to unknowingly condemn me to the same struggle.
I can’t remember the last time I felt satisfied with my body—perhaps never, not even during moments when I looked how I wish I could now. My weight fluctuates; my eating habits swing from indulgence to panic over every calorie. It doesn’t seem to matter that I’m healthy and strong or that this body has nurtured and birthed children. Like my mother, I refuse to wear shorts. When I see myself in the mirror, my eyes are drawn to the sagging areas, the cottage cheese thighs, and the same broken capillaries my mom lamented.
I search for my value in my reflection. It’s no wonder I can’t find it there, but I don’t know how to look elsewhere.
My mom believed she was helping me by instilling these habits, just like her mother did. She didn’t intend to be cruel; she thought that by promoting “healthy” eating and exercise, I could avoid the burden of weight gain.
But all she taught me was how to ensure I could never love myself.
For more insights on parenting and body image issues, check out one of our other blog posts here and learn from the experts at Make a Mom about home insemination kits. The CDC also provides excellent resources on pregnancy and related topics.
Search Queries:
- Body image struggles
- Generational body image issues
- Healthy eating habits
- Parenting and self-esteem
- Overcoming body negativity
Summary:
The author reflects on her complicated relationship with her body, rooted in her mother’s insecurities and societal pressures. Starting a diet at a young age and experiencing an unhealthy relationship with food, she grapples with generational body image issues. Despite being healthy, she struggles to find self-acceptance, highlighting the lasting impact of family dynamics on body image and self-esteem.
Leave a Reply