I’d say my battle with excess adipose tissue began many many years ago with my mother. Sadly, she was raised by a harsh father who told her on more than one occasion that she would never amount to anything. She said he was also heavy handed when it came to punishment. So she stuffed all the pain and hurt down with food. So much so that when she was 13 she was already 200 lbs. In the years following she noticed how she was not noticed by the boys, and that hurt too. So one day she decided to make a change. She didn’t do it in the healthy way, she began starving herself. She accomplished what she wanted by dropping the weight and getting the attention from the young men but she also ruined her stomach in the process. From then on she always had stomach trouble. After she got married she soon had my brother. She ate what she wanted while pregnant then back to starving again. A few years later she became pregnant with me. She gained a lot of weight. She told me she would eat a whole pie at times. But then I popped out a whole five pounds. So I started out small anyway.
I remember somewhat of when I was around 11 years old, daddy had to take mom to a mental hospital in Amarillo to try and break her addiction to diet pills. It had affected her mentally. They gave her shock treatments while she was there and she lost a lot of her memory because of them. I remember going to visit her one time and it took her a little bit to remember me. That scared me so bad. I think she was there for a month. As life went on with mom she would go from one diet to the next. I remember the diet foods we had to eat, dry melba toast, dry cottage cheese, lettuce and tomato salad with only salt and pepper, boiled chicken gizzards, blech. Then there were the days she would have had a stressful day at work and she would come home and binge and binge until she was sick. She’d take some alka seltzer and go to sleep on the couch. It always hurt my heart so much to see her doing that to herself. She was such an emotional eater.
Years later she got on the pondimin kick. She was on it way longer than she should have been and once again affected her mentally. She became paranoid and agitated. We took her to the ER one night but daddy didn’t have the heart to put her away again so he took her home. She kept him up all night long with her goings on. She finally got enough out of her system she could rest. After her mind cleared she realized what a scene she had caused in places around town and was embarrassed to leave home for a very long time. Her fear of becoming fat again never ever left her. She could never let herself enjoy a piece of birthday cake or holiday dinners. She continued to diet the remainder of her life. Even near the end when she was so sick she could barely eat. I was rubbing lotion on her and I said, “You’re nothing but skin and bones.” She said excitedly, “Really?” Like she had finally at last achieved her dream and put her demons behind her.
Now I never considered myself a chubby kid but I do think those Easy Bake pans could have been a little bigger. But then upside my mothers best friend’s beanpole of a daughter I seemed a little large. Seriously, her mother fed her ice cream with whipped topping for breakfast trying to get her to put on weight. Me and her were best friends when we were very young as well because her mother babysat me and my brother while my mother worked. I remember my mother might give me one oatmeal cookie. I would take the smallest bites off of it to make it last as long as possible. When I turned 13 puberty naturally came calling and I started my blossoming process. I don’t know if this triggered old wounds and fear in my mother but I remember at that age being taken to the doctor to see about putting me on a diet. That was the first time I realized I wasn’t good enough just how I was. I was not fat so I was severely disappointed when the doctor didn’t just say, Why are you bringing her in? But no he just told her to not let me eat past 5;00 and no desserts. Life for me was never the same again. I soon learned I had to be a closet eater if I was eating something bad.Even literally at one time. My friend had come over to play and forgotten to take her Easter candy with her when she left. I hid it in my closet and would sneak it to have some from time to time. I remember asking my mom if I could have a Reese’s cup one day. She said, “ Do you really think you need that?” She gave in and got me one but I could not even enjoy it for the guilt I was then feeling. I’ll never forget all the times I was told to suck my tummy in. All the times I would sit in home-ec class and see my friends enjoying their hostess fruit pies or honey buns. At around age 15, I don’t know if my mother found it or I found it, because you know dieting was now my life, but it was this book called The Boston Policeman’s Diet. It was actually I think the first high protein low carb diet. Well I memorized that book and lived by it. I knew that if I was out with friends that a small sprite was the soda with the least sugar so I could fit in somewhat. It did keep me from ever gaining any excess weight I suppose. But, also, like my mother I had so much stomach pain. I had to get this white chalky medicine from the doctor to ease the pain. And also had to put Seratan on my food as a bulk so I would go number 2. But this all seemed normal to my mother.
I got married and finally cooked whatever I wanted, still the fear of overdoing it was always there. When I got pregnant I was surprised by the things I craved, like V-8 and buttermilk. Probably making up for years of lack of nutrients. I gained 40 lbs with her and since my husband was a 10 lb baby I figured I was gonna have a big one. Nope, she was a tiny 6.7 lb angel. Towards the end of six months of nursing I had drank some raw milk that made me very ill. I had to stop breast feeding cold turkey. I lost weight being sick and decided to keep the momentum going. I lost 23 lbs more than when I was first married. I felt good but my husband said it looked like I had let the air out of my boobs. A couple years later I was pregnant with my son. I only gained 36 lbs with him and he was 7.12lbs so that was a little better. And after nursing him I of course went back to my ways of dieting. Those Figurine bars got me by for years, and TAB soda.
I remember a few bonding moments when me and my mother had taken trips to Hollis to get shots for weight loss. I was 5’9 140 and I wanted to be 125. My mother had no problem with that. I think I went for two shots and when I was running just trying to keep up with the speed of my heart and hair standing up on my arms I decided it wasn’t worth it. My mom, however, kept going without me. More times than not whenever I would walk into her house she would say,”Well you look like you’re losing weight.” I don’t know if she was trying to encourage me to do so or why exactly she always said it. She was not only obsessed with my size but almost anyone else as well. When we’d get out amongst people she’d always comment (not to them) on how big they’ve gotten or if they had lost weight. And boy if they’d lost weight she would want to know how they did it.
I quit working and went back to finish my college degree and at the same time became pregnant with my youngest. I was 35 when I had him. After having him it wasn’t as easy to get the baby weight back off. I held on to it for many years after that, probably until his senior year. At that point in my life I seemed to hit some sort of midlife crisis, feared an empty nest and panicked. I dropped about 42 lbs. It felt great. I managed to stay that way for a few years then life just got all messy. I gained and then heart ache hit and I lost. Then life leveled back out and I gained again.
My thyroid is all kinds of wacked out and upon the advice of a pharmacist I respect she encouraged me to get with a physician nutrition specialist. I did. I had blood tests run, DNA tests run and two virtual meetings with her. I bought the supplements she suggested and did my best to stay on the very strict diet she gave me. A few days into it I developed a sick migraine. I hadn’t had one of those in over 15 years. I felt drained and like I could hit the floor at any time. I felt AWFUL! I’m ashamed of how much money I wasted on this endeavor. I’m ashamed of myself for not being strong enough to stick with it.
So here I am now almost 67 with a lot of excess adipose tissue that needs to go. I still feel shame looking at myself I suppose in part because my mother was always happiest with me when I was thin. Hell society is happy with you when you are thin. I try to go walking but my hips ache when I do. I’ve spent most of my life dieting and I’m getting so very tired of fighting the battle of the bulge, especially when it does not budge. There’s not much joy left in this evil world of today and as we all know there is joy in food. So maybe I won’t peruse through all my diet books on Sunday trying to decide if I should give one another try on Monday. Maybe I want to keep my wrinkles at bay a little longer with natural filler. Maybe I should just give it up and just be a soft squishy Mimi for the grandbabies to hug.
But I have those demons too.
