Paula
Physically
speaking I was a very pretty little girl with blonde hair and green
eyes. I weighed in at 51b 13 oz at birth and was, I suppose, a
normal-sized child. Emotionally,
though, I was sad and lonely. The eldest of three children, I was
the first to endure my father's abuse and the emotional scaring that
comes from living with a bad tempered alcoholic.
As
I grew up and got a little heavier, my mother, a very small woman, began
restricting my food. But
because of the emotional turmoil I suffered at the hands of my father,
food became my comfort and I would find ways to eat even when it
wasn't mealtime. Ironically,
my mother told me that as an infant I wouldn't eat and concerned, she
took me to the doctor. The
doctor told her not to worry, that I would eat when I was hungry!
I loved school even though I didn't have many friends and was often
teased and bullied. School was an escape from my volatile home life. There were times when I tried to stand up for myself but it was
hard because I was shy and introverted and of course thought I was fat
Yet, the torment I endured at school was minimal to the torment I
received at home. I was a
good scholar and made good grades. I was also good at sports and was even chosen to be on a school
team. When I was 16 I
had the honor of being chosen as a prefect, which is a type of leader.
When
I was 11 I joined the Girl Guides (girl scouts). I loved it.
It was a wonderful, uplifting part of my life. The leaders were
positive role models and never made me feel fat, or unlovable. I remained a Girl Guide until I was 17, earning badges,
going on camping trips and even becoming a patrol leader.
Yet
despite my accomplishments away from home I still had to endure the
ridicule and torment of parents who could only see that they had a
daughter who liked to eat and was getting fat. My father was my worst tormenter. I know that his mother and both of his sisters were heavy and I
often wonder if that had something to do with the way he treated me. I
was quite close to one of his sisters and loved spending time with her
but I always remember being told I looked just like her. Except in a negative way.As
an adult I realized that she was a wonderful, kind, compassionate woman
and looking like her should have been a positive aspect of my life.
In
retrospect I don't think I was ever all that overweight as a young
person. I was just bigger than my mother and got my build from my
Dad's side of the family. Neither of my parents were big eaters,
especially my mother. I think they just didn't know how to handle a
child who liked to eat. My dad would often offer me food and then
when I said yes, he'd comment, sarcastically, "you never say no do
you?" Or if, between meals, I'd say that I was hungry, my
mother would reply, "how can you be hungry, you just ate?!"
I learned early on to ignore my body's natural hunger signals
in an effort to comply with my parents' ideas of eating habits and
body size.
Sadly my
strongest memories are of the abuse I suffered at the hand of my father.
Not only because of my weight but also for anything I might have done
that would trigger his volatile temper.Of course it wasn't my fault, but I didn't know that at the
time and I grew up believing that I was fat and somehow flawed.
I
started dieting when I was about 18. A coworker and I decided to
lose weight and we found a liquid diet that consisted of milk, raw eggs,
and orange juice blended together. It tasted awful but we stuck
with it for three days. On the third day the office had a party at
a local pub. They served these huge submarine sandwiches there and
my co-worker and I were so weak and hungry we ate one apiece. I
don't remember if I lost any weight then, but I certainly didn't follow
that diet again.
Over
the years I've tried many other weight loss programs and lost
countless pounds. But as
soon as I went back to regular eating, the weight came back, each time a
little more. I really
believe that I dieted my way to the size I am today.
My
parents are both deceased now.
My mother, in her later years, finally realized the damage she
had done to me. She and I
became good friends and I was able to believe in my heart that she did
love me and had many regrets about the way she had treated me as a
child. She was able to see
beyond the fat to the smart, funny, and intelligent person I am.
But my father never came to terms with it.
He was never able to accept the fact that I was fat and even
before he died he was still finding some way to blame our poor
relationship on my size. He could never see beyond the fat and
just love his eldest daughter for who she was and not how she looked.
I'm
still fat and probably always will be. My being fat is probably part genetics and part environment,
neither of which I had any control over.
Sometimes I feel sad and a little angry that the significant
adults in my life could not see me for the pretty, smart, adorable
little girl I was. I've
often felt that if my parents had not been so obsessed with body size
and become so alarmed when I starting gaining some weight, I might not
be as big as I am today.
If
they had just let nature take its course and not pushed me to lose
weight I might be a lot thinner now. But I have also come to realize that they had their own demons
and their own difficult childhoods and beliefs that shaped and molded
them into the adults and parents they became. These insights are hard but necessary for me to accept.
I cannot live with the "if onlys" or the "what ifs",
because when I start to dwell on them I find myself slipping into
depression and anger. And
as I head into my senior years I am learning, albeit slowly, to see
beyond the fat to the smart, intelligent, pretty woman I was meant to
be.
