runlikejoy

Displaced Stay At Home Californian in rural N. Carolina

The Many Faces of Joy

The Many Faces of Joy

Saturday, August 9, 2014

Food Shame

When I was about 12 or 13 and started to go through puberty I started to put on weight.  It wasn't a lot of weight but in my memory I was about as fat as a cow or a large water buffalo.  I remember one morning being told that as a family we would now be running laps at a local field before school or breakfast.  I remember it starting out as a family affair and the just whittling down to me and my mom pretty quickly.  No one else in the family needed to do laps I guess.  I also remember being asked or told to leave the table after one helping of dinner while others stayed.

Whether or not this was a smart dietary decision on the part of my mom, I can tell you that all it did was make me want to cry and I felt like a cow or large water buffalo as I picked up my plate and headed to the kitchen.  To this day I do not being told what to eat or what not to eat.  When people say, "try this it is delicious" I tend to think they are lying.  After all, if you have to tell people it is delicious instead of letting them decide for themselves, most likely it tastes like ass.

The other day I was at the table eating chips and chatting and the bag of chips was taken away from in front of me and I was told that they were too full of salt and to save some for other people.  I got up and walked away.  I got weepy.  And I felt like I did when I was 15 or 16 and I was told to leave the table after one serving.  I can't shake that feeling that I am a fat little kid that doesn't look like any of my brothers or sister and that the only way to get me to fit into whatever mental picture my mother has as ideal for her daughter is to shame her away from the food.

I'll shake it off - I know i will because that is how i am.

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