I think a lot about common tropes. Sometimes it’s out of curiosity: how did we arrive here? How did it become that this is now the accepted/expected way to respond to certain stimuli? Lately, because normalizing bodies like mine has become a sort of mission, I’ve been mulling over how we respond to children’s matter-of-fact assessment of our bodies.
I saw a tweet recently about a toddler calling his mom’s body squishy, and although it was implied that it was a sweet moment between mother and child, the author made the all-too-common joke about leaving the room so he didn’t have to witness her angry or hurt reaction. Several women chimed in, confirming his feelings: that they too would be upset and want to clap back if their child said similar. “Oh, no, kids have no filter!” I happened upon this the same week my own young child developed a habit of squeezing my belly fat, grinning up at me, and saying “squishy fat mommy.”
And I have the opposite reaction. I love it. It makes me happy to have this body, that my child sees as comfortable and comforting. He has not yet been taught that bodies like mine are “bad,” “gross,” “disgusting,” etc. I am morbidly obese and other than slightly high cholesterol (which seems pretty common for a woman in her 40s) and anemia, my labwork and blood pressure have been normal my entire adult life. I recognize that it’s not the norm, that I’m lucky, and that it won’t continue this way if I don’t make adjustments. I’ve been losing weight slowly and steadily since January. Not for any New Years’ Resolution or for looks, but because my weight is outside the limit for some things I want to do, like ziplining and water slides. I want to take my mom horseback riding for her birthday, and scuba dive Silfra someday. I don’t want to be held back by my body. (To be honest, I’m actually LESS happy with how my body looks naked since losing weight. Gravity is ensuring that.)
My kids are aware of both the diet/lifestyle change as well as the reasoning. They celebrate my wins when I show them my pants are too big. They recognize when I’ve had water with meals instead of alcohol. But more importantly, I reinforce my WHY a lot, and ensure they know that I am happy with the way my body LOOKS, aesthetically. I am raising boys and it’s important to me that I don’t model a negative body image for them. I grew up in the 80s, was a teen in the 90s, and I remember my (slim) mom and all my friends’ moms' constant rotation of diets. We only had skim milk in my house despite my sister and I being slightly underweight and very active. It’s something I remember being bothered by at even a young age: why? No one in my family needed skim milk or non-fat anything. I’m not denigrating my mom in the least: she was and continues to be an amazing parent. But I’m old enough now to know that none of us are perfect. This was one of her blind spots. It’s a blind spot I’m hoping to avoid with my boys.
This brings me back to a more subtle point, and one I try to stress gently whenever possible to my well-meaning friends. At what age did we stop using fat and synonyms as simple descriptive terms, as my youngest child still does, and begin associating a negative connotation with it? It’s hard to explain to a “normal-sized person” how their negative reaction to being called fat or squishy or chubby carries an implication that those are bad things to be. That being fat is somehow less than. Especially when the person calling them that is doing it in the most innocent and loving way possible. We have a responsibility as parents and role models to stop associating those words with something negative. We have to reframe the way we respond, even if the gut reaction is an “oof.”
Another thing that often occurs to reinforce this idea to society at large is the way we post and respond to “before & after” pics. I WANT to celebrate your successes, truly. If you have worked hard and are happy with the results, that’s an incredible achievement. But it’s hard for me to separate the way you see ME and other bodies like mine, when it’s posted with a connotation of “look how horrid I was before, I can’t believe that was my body?!” It makes it feel as though there is an asterisk when these women tell me they love how my body looks, that I am beautiful and sexy and I should be proud of it. They don’t realize that I still hear the unspoken “as long as I don’t still have to look like that, whew.”
One point that comes up when I discuss this with friends is “well, strangers don’t want to be called fat, so how do you teach your kids that?” Simple. I actively try to work with my kids on not commenting on other people’s bodies or looks at all. We already do it in some ways: some people are in a wheelchair. Some are missing a limb. Some have gaps in their teeth, or carry a colostomy bag, or have a ton of wrinkles or no hair. We teach our kids not to point it out, that it’s impolite to stare. It’s the same concept. Of course, at some point, we’re all faced with a scenario in which we have to describe someone. I don’t have all the answers for what to do in that case, but I at least would like there to be a conversation about it.
Overcoming the ingrained stigma of societal standards and truly accepting your body for what it is and can do for you is tough. It’s taken me virtually my entire adult life, and I still have to work at it daily. But I would love to see other women*, of all sizes, “too” skinny, muscular, flabby, or full-figured, let go of being offended at words that describe them. We are all amazing and tremendous and special, because and in spite of the bodies we wear.
*I recognize that men face stigma for their shapes as well, but I am tired of hearing about it when I write about the female perspective. We all know that deep down, it’s far rarer than what women experience, and far less likely to impact things like career growth, fair treatment, and marriage prospects. So try not telling me about it, just this one time. Thanks.
