I was thinking today about Easter when I was little. I was a fat, awkward kid. This was back when chubbiness could be cute if you were a certain age. Easter was a major score for a fat kid like me. Next to Halloween, it was the best holiday in that large amounts of candy were not only OK, they were actually given to you by adults.
My mom used to sew and Easter time was a big thing for her. We were church goers and people dressed up at that time. She always used to make me an Easter dress every year. We would go and pick out the fabric and we would go to the sewing place and look at all the patterns. At the time, I wanted a "maxi" dress. This was all the rage at that time in the 70's. People wore "maxi" dresses and "maxi" coats. They were floor length. Think Maude/Bea Arthur. I had a few Bea Arthur-esque vests in my repertoire too and I really thought I was the shit. After the fabric and pattern was chosen my mother would pin it on me, doing her thing and then sew it all together on her machine. We'd go to the Buster Brown shop and I'd get my Easter shoes, usually white, and I was all set. One year, she took a ceramics class and she made me a ceramic Easter Basket. She was so proud of herself. That day she gave it to me I clumsily dropped it and it partially broke. She screamed at me and all the pictures from Easter that year are of me holding my broken Easter basket with big tears in my eyes and a nasty scowl. It makes me laugh now to look at that but at the time, oh what drama!
Now, looking back, how could I not have been fat? Food was such a huge thing for us. True I was a lot more active than a lot of kids now with no video games, no computer and playing outside and riding my bike daily but I loved my goodies and they were always around. We didn't even know what fat grams were at the time and there was no such thing as low fat anything. I don't blame my Mother at all, she had weight issues too and she joined weight watchers in the 70's when I was really young and she was successful, at losing a significant amount.
I remember her sitting at the living room coffee table at night while she watched TV with a grapefruit, peeling it slowly and eating segment by segment with her glass of Fresca. Remember Fresca? Do they still make it? She told me that Weight Watchers taught her that if you eat something that takes time to get to (like the peeling of the grapefruit) it seems like you are eating more and it occupies your hands when you are bored and wanting to eat. To this day, I try to do that with fruit(my blood oranges) when I have that restless "I wanna eat something" feeling. I try to pick something that takes a little effort to eat so it lasts longer and gives me something to do for a bit. She also used to have half a cantaloupe at night with a scoop of frozen iced milk in the center(that's what they called it at the time). That was a big treat for her too. She always tried to share with me what she learned but I wouldn't have it. I wasn't ready. Even in my 20's, I wasn't ready. She would sometimes make gentle comments about my weight when I would complain about it, she wanted to help and one day I turned to her and said, "do you think I will ever lose this weight?" She turned to me and softly said "of course you will, when you're ready". She was right.
It took me till I was 31 years old to be ready. That was the year after she died. I wonder why I waited so long? I'm sure there are a host of reasons but a big part of it was probably recognizing my own mortality and the fact that time was limited, I wasn't going to live forever and I wanted to enjoy my time here somewhat as a thin person. I also think I felt like it was time to say goodbye to the old me, the me who had experienced a lot of traumas and struggles and to stop hiding behind my fat. My fat was safe, I was non-threatening and not a risk taker. Nothing was expected of me. Or maybe I should say, I expected nothing of myself therefore no one else did either. Domino effect, no? After the weight loss I think it was no coincidence that I went back to school for a different career and got into the most serious relationship of my life. I finally began to LIVE. One day I looked in the mirror and all of a sudden, I realized that I was pretty. I just "became" pretty overnight. Of course this is not literally true, it is what happened in my head, through my own eyes. I saw the girl my mother always saw, the girl that was always there and after finally getting to the point where I learned to appreciate and like myself, everything about me changed, even my looks!
It's funny but someone actually told me today that she thought of me as a take charge kind of person who could handle anything. I don't feel like that at all but no one ever saw me like that when I was obese. I certainly didn't. Maybe it has nothing at all to do with that weight but more with who I became when I shed myself of it. I stopped apologizing for who I was and I have worked on becoming who I wanted to be. These are all things to really think about. They also lend truth to my thoughts that no one is fat because of their love for food, being fat is a "condition" that comes on related to whatever is going on in your life that makes you overeat. Essentially, "I came down fat" because I was completely stumped at how to cope with my traumas and stresses and food seemed to be the answer at the time. I blame no one, as a matter of fact, I thank God that I did not become a drug addict or an alcoholic. Food was the least of all evils considering the additions that ran rampant in my family.
Anyway, It's funny how 35 years later, I still vividly remember my Mother developing her healthy habits when at the time I don't remember thinking much of it. It made quite the impact on me and I wish she was still alive to tell her so. Another thing I'm realizing is that my relationship with my mother is still continuing and all that bullshit that people say when someone dies about the person never really leaving you is actually true. True, she is not here physically but I am constantly amazed at how things she said and did are still with me, traditions she taught me, advice she gave me...all of it. It's still here in my head so basically, she is still alive and well in my gray matter. I never ever believed this when people would say it to me, that a person lives on. I was too literal but now, after being without her for almost 15 years, I finally see what they meant. I still dream of her and actually have conversations with her and what a treasured treat that is. If you are a parent and reading this, do not underestimate the impact your habits and behaviors can have on your family/children. Even many years later after you are gone, you might be surprised at what sticks!
Happy Easter Everyone!
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