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Yes, My Daughter is a Little Bit Fat. Yes, It is Perfectly Fine.

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Yes, My Daughter is a Little Bit Fat. Yes, It is Perfectly Fine.

I have written about this issue at least five times before, I guess because it keeps coming up repeatedly.

I wrote about Paige’s weight only a week into the creation of this blog, in a post called Different Bodies. In February of 2015, I wrote about eating disorders in this post called For My Daughter. In October of 2015, I wrote The Worth of a Girl: Why My Daughter’s Weight is None of My Business. In June of 2016, I wrote Measuring Up. And in November of 2017, I wrote Paige a letter in this post titled, This Time, It Will Be Different.

It helps me to write about Paige’s “struggles” with her weight every time the issue arises, because it’s an exercise in reaffirming the well-researched approach I’ve taken toward this issue. It came up again yesterday, so I’m writing about it again.

When Paige was about six, and I knew for sure that she was going to be fat, I made sure I read the best book I could find. That book was called Your Child’s Weight, Helping Without Harming, by Ellyn Satter. Here’s the summary from the back of the book, and it’s guided my philosophy on this issue ever since:
If your goal is to have a slim child, you are looking for the magic diet and ready to do whatever it takes to achieve that, this is not the book for you. On the other hand, if you are willing to stow your agenda about your child’s size and shape, shoulder your responsibilities with respect to feeding and parenting and raise your child to get the body that is right for him or her, read on. If, in fact, like a lot of parents you were reluctant to pick this book up because you dread even entertaining the thought that your child might have a weight problem with all the misery that entails, this is the book for you.
It was a great book, and although it had some impractical suggestions I couldn’t easily implement, the key takeaways were as follows: (1) children are born with a genetic blueprint and the ability to self-regulate their diet; (2) interfering with these mechanisms can backfire and have lasting physical and psychological damage; and (3) “fat” is not a dirty word, and it is okay to be fat.

Yesterday, Paige was crying because she'd stepped on my bathroom scale and weighed 120 pounds. She is almost five feet tall, and her pediatrician says she is right on track for her growth curve. I reminded her of all of this, and told her that her body is perfect the way it is, she is growing, everyone grows at their own pace, everyone has their own body and their own struggles, and she has the body she is supposed to have.

“But it doesn’t FEEL that way,” she wailed, bemoaning the fact that no one could pick her up during dance or gymnastics or give her an “underdog” on the swing. She pointed out, rightly, that I weigh myself every day and count calories and exercise and obsess about my weight. One of the practical suggestions I couldn’t implement—that I had FAILED to implement—was setting a good example for Paige, so I was honest about that.

“Look honey,” I said, and I pressed pause on the treadmill, where, maybe not coincidentally, I was running during this dialogue. 
“I’m sorry I am not setting a good example for you about this. I really am. I’m very messed up in the head about all of this myself, and that’s part of the reason I want things to be different for you.”

I explained that her grandparents had pressured me to be thin and that it had given me almost a decade of eating disorders and in the end I wound up weighing the exact same amount as I had when they started their campaign to end my life “struggles” of being “chubby.” I don't blame or resent them for this, but they know they were wrong, and I told her so. 
This is the baggage I carry around with me as a result. I don’t have the self-regulating mechanisms or the self-confidence I need to live my life without a scale and calorie-counting and other neurotic psychological detritus of this particular life history.

I also explained that society’s emphasis on women’s bodies is against everything I stand for with respect to feminism and women's agency; about the messages we send to girls about their bodies; and about their self-worth and where it is housed.

She didn’t sound convinced, and I know she wasn’t. I also know this won’t be the last conversation we will have about this. But as long as society can repeatedly brainwash girls with negative ideas about their bodies, then it’s my job as a mother to push back against those messages, not re-enforce them.

So yes, Paige is a little bit fat, and it is completely fine.






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