“A mother who radiates self-love and self-acceptance actually vaccinates her daughter against low self esteem” - Naomi Wolf
I heard this quote a few years ago. Just in passing, I heard it and instantly believed it to be true. I wrote it down. Twice. Once on the page of my diary for the day I heard it and again on a random date for later in the year. It resonated with me so much that I wanted to be surprised by it again in the future. Just as a reminder to remain aware that someone else was watching me interact with the world. Not only watching, listening. She was not merely a spectator though. She was being coached, guided, taught, mothered, call it what you will. She was feeding off all that I gave out and it was slowly shaping the woman she would become. I was aware of all this instantly and yet, in the muddle of the next few years, I managed to let such a gem of advice slip through my fingers.
Since then I have welcomed two busy little boys into my world. Beautiful, wild, charming, crazy boys. While I am well aware of the enormous impact I am having on them also, it remains those moments that I catch my daughter taking it all in that have the greatest power to shake me. It is now, absolutely more than ever, that I need to be shaken.
How does a person allow themselves to get to my size? I do not remember a time in my life where I wasn’t the biggest. I was born big. That’s not my excuse, merely an observation. From photos it seems that in my early childhood I was at my most average size. Something kicked in though at around 7or 8 (an age my daughter is fast approaching). I don’t know why, probably never will, but from that age on I simply started to be the biggest.
My earliest memories of weight negatively affecting my life were in late primary school. Whether this is just because that’s as far as my memories will stretch I’m not sure. I was never ostracized or constantly teased by my peers because of my weight. I was well liked and accepted. I vividly remember a couple of comments here and there by other kids. The fact that I can pinpoint them though highlights their rarity. I was reminded more about my size from some family members. Whether they were worried about me or ashamed of me, or both, I’m not sure. But they would ‘encourage’ me to lose weight. A comment here a tutt there until eventually I was taken to my first weight loss meeting at around the age of 11. Significantly younger than anyone else in the hall, I had no idea that I was only at the beginning of a battle that would consume my entire life.
