My parents were both very thin (Mum had a 19"
waist before becoming pregnant the first time &
Dad was a rail-thin fellow), although one of my mum's
sisters was quite large (she died as a result of intestinal
bypass surgery, but that's another story). My paternal
grandparents were average-sized. My maternal grandmother
had a "goiter" removed, and a virtually non-functional
thyroid during a portion of her life, but was pretty
modest in size except for a short period during her
40s. My maternal grandfather, while quite tall &
broad-shouldered, maintained (I'm told) an average
weight.
I was under six pounds at birth and was a sickly
child—constant ear/nose/throat infections, rheumatoid
arthritis before age 2 (which, for some mysterious
reason, has disappeared), and at the age of three looked
more like an 18-month-old child.
I ate very little, because my body required very
little. My mother was just fine with that, as she has
intense food likes/dislikes herself, and was not a
big eater. Dad, however, being from an Italian background
that admonished all to "Eat... eat..."
was concerned that I wasn't eating enough. He would
lose his temper when I'd pick at what seemed like voluminous
portions to me, but were woefully inadequate in his
eyes. He'd sometimes start to yell—and believe me,
we Italian folks can yell! It was terrifying to me,
and instead of causing me to finish what was on my
plate, made me so upset that I would throw up. Eventually,
I stopped eating. Yes. Just STOPPED. My parents were
at their wits end... Until one day...
Mum was bedridden with a back problem and the
chiropractor came to the house (yeah... the bygone
days of housecalls) to work on her. My parent's bedroom
was across from mine, and I was taking a nap. I was
spasming in my sleep—this teensy body twitching and
not at rest. After tending to my mum, the chiropractor
grabbed my dad and wanted to know if he had been beating
me, because he said that no child should be having
such tremors. He took Dad down the hallway, and Mum
says she has no idea to this day what was said, but
dad ceased his angry displays at the table. Meanwhile,
the doctor came into my room and massaged my back and
legs until I stopped trembling. He had enormous hands
and was a big teddy-bear of a man. Perhaps that's why
I have such an affinity for such men today.
The damage, however, had been done. My unconscious
equation? "If I eat, Daddy won't yell at me,
and he will love me." Somehow over the years
it got twisted into "All men will love me if
I eat." Funny thing is, they had to ease me back
into food—beginning with fruit juices, then adding
one food at a time, letting me eat what I wanted when
I wanted it. I remained small, although I did begin
to eat a little more. I was trying to please my father,
even if it was physically uncomfortable to me. I couldn't
have been more wrong about trying to please my father
(translated: men) by eating [well, at least most
men...].
I became a nationally competitive ice skater and
was still small. Puberty hit very late for me (almost
16), and it was about that time that I stopped ice
skating. Dad's rare, progressive heart disease (he
was ill for 8 years before he died when I was 17) precluded
me from being able to continue. I was his primary caretaker
those later years because Mum had to work to support
the family.
After puberty hit, I began to gain a little weight—not
a lot, in retrospect, but I was aghast. My eating habits
had not changed, and although the type of activity
in which I participated had changed, it was at pretty
much the same level. I swam 50 laps every day in the
school pool (became Red Cross certified Life Guard),
was in the marching band, took care of dad, worked
part-time, etc., etc. The weight still started to creep
up. I was, (Horrors to the teen!) by my first year
in college a SIZE 14!!! At that time, it seemed horribly
large. That's what perceptions do to you. I perceived
myself as horribly fat, when it was simply my body
adjusting to puberty, lifestyle changes, etc.
Instead of allowing my body to adjust normally,
I began the diet cycle. Now... to dispel a BIG MYTH:
Contrary to popular belief, many "fat" people
have an INCREDIBLE amount of will-power. After all,
most of us have tried every fad diet there is, and
most of those require an ENORMOUS amount of self-control
and will power. I once fasted (Yes... FASTED... NOTHING
but WATER) for 28 (count them)—twenty-eight (no misprint)—days.
I once GAINED 2 pounds in one week on a 500-calorie
a day diet. Go figure... All the time, my activity
level remained high. After the first diet, I gained
the weight back, PLUS some more. The cycle continued...
When I was doing professional musical theatre, I had
dieted back down to a size 11-13. I still felt FAT.
I was part of a theatre troupe which was home to women
between sizes 2 and 6 (an 8 or 10 mixed in), so by
comparison, I was a tub. At least I was in my eyes...
I am a vegetarian—have been for over ten years.
I have a cholesterol count a 12-year-old would kill
for, and blood pressure of 120/80. I weigh slightly
over 200 pounds now, and can honestly say that I "dieted"
my way here. The "push-pull" and constant
"yo-yo" dieting created a physical and mental
atmosphere that bordered on obsessive.
Lots of "IFs" here... IF Dad had just
let my eating habits develop normally. IF he (and other
male relatives) had not used food as reward/punishment
instead of sustainance. IF my self-perceptions had
not been distorted. IF, IF, IF... Well... It now IS
what it IS. I maintain a healthy, active lifestyle.
I eat healthy foods. Yes, like everyone else, I have
the occasional piece of cheesecake or home-made cookies.
I love to cook for my guests, and go all out for them.
The bottom line... A LOT of factors came into
play on my way to BBWdom. In this sorority, I'm actually
considered to be small. Again... Go figure... EVERYONE
has a DIFFERENT story, although some of the scenarios
may overlap. After finding this site (stumbled onto
it when searching for current info on intestinal bypass
surgery to talk someone out of it), I can honestly
say that for the FIRST time in my adult life, I can
look at myself without thinking what so many told me
(here's the litany, folks), "You have such a
pretty face. If only you'd lose some weight."
So I'm zaftig... It doesn't keep me from volunteering
at a local home for seniors. I take them on outings,
teach arts and crafts, read to them, listen to their
stories, etc. I perform regularly on-stage and in the
recording studio. I work in the "real" world
doing computer (software) consulting and training.
I have a social life. I teach Sunday School. I volunteer
at church and in the community. I do ALL the things
I would be doing if I were 75 pounds lighter. My size
has not kept me from enjoying my life, my friends,
or my profession(s). If anything, the bulk (no pun
intended *g*) of my experience has made it possible
for me to be more tolerant of others' differences.
So... how did I get this way? It was a long road...
And you know something? I finally like the house I
live in.
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