I am a fat mom.
But this isn’t new to me. I have been both a fat and thin person as long as I can remember. The first time I went to weight watchers, I was 9 years old. I recall it well; along with the 30 other diets and attempts to lose weight in my life.
When I was younger, I would consider myself weight obsessed. I would wish for mono or the flu. Now that I am older and a mom, I am less obsessed but highly aware of my ever-shifting bod. It does not seem to matter what I achieve in life, I am still placing an unhealthy amount of thoughts and self-talk towards my physique.
My midwife once told to me, that women’s bodies change dramatically three times in their life: puberty, once having a child, and then menopause. Little did she know that I had lost and gained the same 40 pounds more times than I could count. So for me, I am not scared of being fat, it is an old friend that I have known before. Kids or no kids.
When I hear the dialogue around women’s bodies and motherhood, I want to puke. Mostly because I am jealous of those who have either, “gotten their body back” or those who are cool enough not to care.
I care- more than I would like to admit (but here I am, admitting it). I had to Marie Kondo my closet to keep two sets of clothing- the skinny clothing that don’t fit and the fat girl clothing that does.
I am an extremist when it comes to this topic- and right now I am in the throes of eating well and exercising. I wish I had more hours in the day to find time to hit the gym, downward dog and grow the momsTO business – how lame is it that I need more hours in a day… on maternity leave!
I must acknowledge and give a lot of respect to those moms that spend their mat leave stomping out steps and hitting workout classes in the pursuit of “combatting the fat”. In the month of January, I have moved more than in the last 2 years combined, so power to you. But maybe that is why I feel compelled to write this- Everywhere I look, people are obsessing about health, wellness, and weight loss. I guess because its the 3rd week of the new year, the resolution wheels are falling off and I am feeling an internal battle to stop my healthy habits.
Damn endorphins- they make me feel so good!
And to have a daughter- I do not want to fuck her up when it comes to body image. I love my mom so much but she did me in good on the topic, unintentionally… as much as her mother did to her. I would like to say I am going to put an end to this vicious cycle. I want a fate different for my baby girl. The amount of headspace I spend on this “fat girl” narrative is embarrassing. I do not want Essa to exhort even one iota of brain space on this because she could be engineering so many other amazing thoughts. The black hole of fat girl negative self talk is exhausting: I do not want her sense of self to be wrapped up in her appearance or her weight.
There was a 10-year photo challenge that went viral- When I look back at those young 20 something photos of myself, I cannot believe how good I looked- I can bet that, at the moment, I felt fat. And today, I sit here, 40 pounds down from my delivery weight and 40 pounds to go to my wedding weight. I am trying to find some sort of peace knowing that, I will always be in flux, never satisfied; and at the same time, I am committed to ensuring I don’t pass the evil fat girl curse of obsession over numbers to my daughter.
Heres to hoping we can move the dial for all moms and women to set an entirely new tone for self-worth.
Heres to hoping that 40 pounds up or down, us mamas can appreciate the bodies that have created life.
Time to hit the treadmill.