TallFatSue
Well-Known Member
It sounds like many other fat women on this board got earfuls of mixed messages from their mothers when they were growing up. Almost sounds like I had it easy.
Obesity is Hereditary: You Get It From Your Children. Or so my mother believes. I'll bet one reason my mother harped about my weight as a girl was her own figure wasn't "perfect". To hear her tell it, she had a perfect figure until I was born, and ever since then she's had a little belly that annoys the dickens out of her. Not that she's really fat by any means. Not that the birth of my brother 2 years later had anything to do with it -- he's thin. So, even though she's never actually said it, but she behaves like her fat daughter made her "fat". Yeah right, Mom, obesity is contageous.
Yesterday Art & I visited my parents, and I do love them -- both 73 and still going strong. My father needed some help moving some furniture so Art gave him a hand, which was 10 minutes' work, tops. As soon as we walked in the door, I could smell my mother's gourmet cooking. She's convinced that Art & I will starve to death if she doesn't cook for a small army whenever we visit. Considering her attitude about my weight, she conveniently forgets that I could live on my fat for a year.
So while Art helped my father, I walked into the kitchen to help my mother. Mom always makes comments about my weight, or complains about her non-existent rolls of fat. I used to dread waiting for it to happen, but now I just head her off at the pass (it's fun to be a wise ass).
Sue: Smells great, Mom. I should have worn bigger jeans.
Mom: Doesn't it bother you to have that belly of yours hanging out for all the world to see?
Sue: If it gets any bigger, I'll buy a wheelbarrow, I promise.
Mom: Very funny.
We had a really nice visit, and I sure put away the food. After dinner we had a nice long chat, and Mom brought out her killer chocolate cream pie for dessert. We had lotsa leftovers to take home with us too. I know my mother only wants what's best for me, which is why she feeds me until I pop some buttons, yet also frets over how fat I am. But I'm a big girl now, so I've learn how to handle her mixed messages.
So what does my father think about my weight? As far as he's concerned, I turned out just fine. I've never heard him comment about my size, except to call me "Daddy's Little Girl". Yep, Art & I are in our late 40s with rewarding careers, and they still call us "you kids".
Excuse me, I hear some leftover chocolate cream pie calling my name.
Sue
Obesity is Hereditary: You Get It From Your Children. Or so my mother believes. I'll bet one reason my mother harped about my weight as a girl was her own figure wasn't "perfect". To hear her tell it, she had a perfect figure until I was born, and ever since then she's had a little belly that annoys the dickens out of her. Not that she's really fat by any means. Not that the birth of my brother 2 years later had anything to do with it -- he's thin. So, even though she's never actually said it, but she behaves like her fat daughter made her "fat". Yeah right, Mom, obesity is contageous.
Yesterday Art & I visited my parents, and I do love them -- both 73 and still going strong. My father needed some help moving some furniture so Art gave him a hand, which was 10 minutes' work, tops. As soon as we walked in the door, I could smell my mother's gourmet cooking. She's convinced that Art & I will starve to death if she doesn't cook for a small army whenever we visit. Considering her attitude about my weight, she conveniently forgets that I could live on my fat for a year.
So while Art helped my father, I walked into the kitchen to help my mother. Mom always makes comments about my weight, or complains about her non-existent rolls of fat. I used to dread waiting for it to happen, but now I just head her off at the pass (it's fun to be a wise ass).
Sue: Smells great, Mom. I should have worn bigger jeans.
Mom: Doesn't it bother you to have that belly of yours hanging out for all the world to see?
Sue: If it gets any bigger, I'll buy a wheelbarrow, I promise.
Mom: Very funny.
We had a really nice visit, and I sure put away the food. After dinner we had a nice long chat, and Mom brought out her killer chocolate cream pie for dessert. We had lotsa leftovers to take home with us too. I know my mother only wants what's best for me, which is why she feeds me until I pop some buttons, yet also frets over how fat I am. But I'm a big girl now, so I've learn how to handle her mixed messages.
So what does my father think about my weight? As far as he's concerned, I turned out just fine. I've never heard him comment about my size, except to call me "Daddy's Little Girl". Yep, Art & I are in our late 40s with rewarding careers, and they still call us "you kids".
Excuse me, I hear some leftover chocolate cream pie calling my name.
Sue
