I usually enjoy a good purge of the house. But even with today’s perfect conditions—a quiet house, just me and my daughter, who won’t dare make eye contact with me for fear I enlist her to purge along with me—I can’t seem to rally.
Standing in my closet, I take inventory. If I purged everything that didn’t fit I wouldn’t have anything to wear. Well, that’s not entirely true, but still depresses me. I ignore the truth and start throwing clothes into three piles on the bed.
This stack is a maybe, this is to donate, and these are for Cate, I think. Cate, a new friend, who is now on her way to my house after receiving my ridiculous text, COME OVER AND GET THESE JEANS BEFORE I CHANGE MY MIND!
No questions asked, she understands the urgency of the situation – a woman purging her closet.
I throw another pair of jeans on Cate’s pile. I certainly don’t need reminders of what doesn’t work for me, right?
I pick the jeans back up from the pile and hesitate. Two years old, they still have the tags attached. And they taunt me every time I see them.
I should keep these, I tell myself, they’re just a little bit tight. I’ll fit into them soon.
I should keep them.
No, I shouldn’t. They don’t fit. I put them down on the bed, pick them up, and put them back on the pile. That doesn’t feel right either. I pick them up one last time, clutch them to my chest, and walk out of the bedroom. They don’t fit, and that’s okay. Then why do I feel like a failure? Why do I feel embarrassed?
Just because I’m giving these away doesn’t mean I’ll never be that size again. There will be another pair when I’m ready for them.
Walking down the hallway, I relax my shoulders and loosen my grip on the heckling jeans. I feel good about this, and then I hear words, echoes of sentiments that have been swirling around in my head, thoughts that are suddenly out in the open, loud and clear.
I hate being a size 16.
But it’s not me confessing. It’s Cate, who is now standing in our living room, waiting for my they-don’t-fit-but-they-almost-fit-you-can-have-them-no-you-can’t jeans.
Cate, a friend who shares the same struggle: learning how to embrace the body we have, while working towards the body we want, pulls the jeans out of my hands as if they weighed a hundred pounds, and slams them against her legs.
She looks me straight in the eyes and snorts, I’m not kidding. I do. I hate being a size 16. It’s SO big.
I look over at my 12-year-old daughter sitting on the couch, unfazed by the conversation being had. Thank god she has her ear buds in.
In the near past—like three weeks ago—I would have chimed in and encouraged the conversation with a simple Me too, I hate being a size 16.
We would have laughed, joked about our thighs, probably sharing cookies while talking about how we’re tired of trying to lose weight.
But not today.
Today I am left speechless. I have no witty comeback, no words connecting us to a sisterhood of weight loss. I just stand there, staring at her, holding a pair of jeans that didn’t fit me. Never fit me. Jeans that are a size she hated.
As my mind sifted through thoughts of how Cate hated a size that I didn’t even fit into anymore, all I could think about was my girl. I do not want her to inherit this language that keeps me stuck in one place.
How many times has she has heard me say I need to lose weight, I hate my hips, I can’t eat that I’m trying to lose weight, I can’t go I don’t have anything to wear, I’m too big? How many times has she listened to this soundtrack of her mom, in constant turmoil over her size?
Standing there, caught between protecting my daughter and commiserating with Cate, I am left wondering where it all started. I have a pretty good idea—and I was just a year older than my daughter is now.
When I was thirteen and staying with my grandparents for a few days during the summer, my grandma, who prided herself on her good looks and an active lifestyle, kept pestering me to go for a walk with her. I couldn’t be bothered. It was summer after all.
Plus, walking? Really? Walking was what old people did after dinner.
She somehow talked me into it. I can still feel the heat of summer bouncing off the pavement as we walked around her neighborhood. She pointed out neighbors’ homes, talking about their landscaping—or lack thereof.
I was ready to head back to her house and beeline to their basement freezer for some ice cream when she pulled my arm to keep going. “No, we’re not going back yet, you need to work on those hips,” she said. I slowed my stride. My hips? I thought, What is she talking about? Then, as if she could read my mind, she answered my question out loud, “If you walk more often your hips would be smaller, you don’t want to get fatter.”
Wait, fatter? Who said I was fat?
We kept walking and she continued to educate me on the benefits of walking and how quickly my hips would shrink if I kept it up.
Finally arriving back at their driveway, the blacktop was still hot, soft under our soles. I lifted the latch on the gate leading to their backyard, my eyes catching a glimpse of their pool in which I floated around earlier today, while trying to figure out how to make summer last longer.
Now I wondered if I would be brave enough to wear a swimsuit. The screen door felt heavy, resisting my entrance, whispering, don’t come in, it’s not safe. I opened it and entered the same house I left just an hour ago.
The only difference? Before the walk, I felt safe and loved. Now I felt confused and less than. Because now I’m fat.
Back in my own living room, I don’t really respond to Cate. I wish I had the confidence to respond with something like, It’s the size of your heart—not your hips—that matters.
I wish I had the confidence to say, You have no idea how words can linger. Linger for decades after somebody has said them, linger for years after that somebody has passed.
Every time I see my hips, I still hear my grandmother, your hips are too big, keep walking, and don’t be lazy.
I stay quiet, but I remind myself how powerful words are. How anybody who hears them soaks them up in their own individual way. Even though my words about my body are never aimed at my daughter, she has already soaked up enough of them to last a lifetime. It’s time to stop.
Because when I hear Cate say, I hate being a size 16, all I hear is I’m not enough, you’re not enough, she’s not enough.
Oh Denise! I had a similar shift in my beliefs about my body in middle school. it wasn’t my grandmother but some kid. i always considered myself curvey and i loved that about my body. but one day some kid said something and i remeber the next time i was showering i realy looked at my body and realized i was fat. this one comment from some kid sparked a yoyo dieting weightloss battle i am still fighting today. i am trying to be so careful around the kids with what i say about food and body. i want my daughter to believe she is strong, so when she asks why i exercize i say because i want to be strong. it is so hard when i look in the mirror and all i can see are the places with flab, fat, extra skin and think yuck, i still have so far to go. will i ever get there? yes and then i will stay at a healthy weight and BMI. i will set an example for my children! thank you for sharing your story!
I remember someone saying “cottage cheese” thighs and “saddle bag” hips when I was young. I started running when I was 16 and haven’t had to worry about them ever since. Keep moving, eat healthy and love yourself (and what you do).
Denise- when I was in 4th grade I heard my mom and my ballet teacher discussing my “tummy” that had gotten bigger. It was all over for me at that point. I can so relate to your words and your writing. I hope you know what a positive impact you are having on this tribe by telling your story.
Thank you so much for sharing your story and your struggles. I am inspired to watch my words and views. I recently did a purge as well and mourned a bit.
Oh, this brought tears to my eyes. Having been up and down the scale many times due to pregnancy, stress, nursing school, and life in general I feel the pain of not being happy with the skin you are in. Even now, weighing in at a weight well within the healthy range for my height and being the strongest I have ever been, I am still not happy with the way I look. My body has done and continues to do amazing things, things that I never thought I could do, but I still run through the inner dialogue of self criticism and doubt. What will it take? When will we give ourselves the same grace that we give others? I emphasize to my daughters that I choose to workout and eat right because I feel better when I do, and its better for my body. I hope to save them from this cycle of self doubt and self consciousness.
Thank you for so eloquently putting into words an experience I’m sure most of us have felt. I am with you on the struggle to but those destructive thoughts behind us and to feel comfortable in the new, accepting, positive ones. I don’t want my daughter, or anyone’s daughter, to have to go through their lives believing they are anything other than the amazing women they are.
Thank you so much for your honesty. You have put into word exactly the struggles that woman especially mom’s go through today. I have two daughters and I know they understand that their mom has “food issues.” My oldest daughter was eating pizza the other day and said: “Mom, you can have the last slice, but it’s probably all your calories for the day.” My heart sank. She is only 13 and knows how crazy her mom is. I need to be a better role model for her. It is hard everyday, but I do not want my daughters to grow up and base the joy of their day off a number on the scale.
I hear you, Denise. Thank you so much for sharing. Keep up the good work of loving yourself and your daughter will learn that. Hugs, KP
Thank you for sharing. My mom made a similar comment about hips to me when I was a teenager reaching for second helpings at dinner — I’ve never forgotten. I was active in 3 sports per year and was probably a size 2 at the time. I now have 3 daughters and try to be very careful about what I say around them, making sure to discuss my love of running as it relates to strength, energy and joy, as opposed to weight loss. Nonetheless, my 6 year old daughter announced yesterday that she hoped the weather got better so that I could run and lose my big belly. I was speechless, and so glad that my husband jumped in to say that I looked exactly how I should after having a baby recently. Even though I haven’t specifically talking about losing weight, I’m sure that she has heard me complain that my pre-baby clothes do not fit. She went on to say that I was bigger than the other moms in her class. I’m a size 6. This is crazy. Despite what we say or don’t say, it seems that children are more attune to size and size comparisons than we were at their ages.
I was fairly healthy through childhood and early adulthood. One thing that stands out though: more than once as a child my mother said “someday you’ll be fat like me” and now I am I’m no longer angry with my mother for pushing her low self image onto me. I’m trying not to be angry with myself for making the choice to not take of my self. Yet as I sit here typing this I still feel locked into this this obesity. I can’t find the key to consistently take care of myself. So I feel this – I’ve got my size 16s that are too small hanging next to the jeans that actually fit.
This is so powerful. Thank you for sharing your brave words.
Such raw, beautiful words….so much truth. All my young life I just wanted to be one of the cute little petite girls. I would look at them longingly, knowing inside that would never be me. My weight has been a roller coaster my entire life and I’ve never felt satisfied…..what a vicious cycle! Finally, I can look at my body and know that although my tummy isn’t anywhere near flat and I may be able to pinch more than an inch (quite a bit more!), it is a STRONG, HEALTHY body that has produced two of my life’s greatest joys….it is a gift….a blessing….and I am thankful!
Anothermotherrunner is literally the Best weight loss community anywhere. I read it everyday. And i’m also so grateful I found https://tinyurl.com/y9wlooa8 , it helped me not only lost weight but keep it off, hope it helps some others!