Influences
Eating disorders usually aren't suspected until a child shows physical manifestations, but the truth is that every pound dropped or meal purged has a psychological backlog of months or years. My quest to raise a healthy girl has me focusing more and more on those particular roots of my past struggles. I clearly remember that the thoughts, perceptions and intentions developed long before I started refusing food. I can trace some of it to messages that came from trusted elders at seemingly innocuous times. A comment about the size of my legs during a field trip, or a glare when I would ask for the next size up when shopping. If I close my eyes, I can remember how it made me feel. At times hollow, at times irritated. Whatever it was, it usually went deep inside to metamorphose into something dark and vicious. I don't think any single comment sent me into the land of disordered eating, but the territory was probably fertile (I grew up in the classic ED petri dish--a high-pressure, media-saturated "superzip" where women typically put a lot of effort and money into how they appear). In the end, I'm not looking to blame--I only want a deeper structural understanding so that I can empower my daughter. I think that living in a different environment with a supportive community will go a long way. New Orleans has its own challenges when it comes to the body--but unlike the area in which I came of age it is a highly accepting, it's-your-thing-do-whatchu-wanna-do type of place. I hope that seeing all colors, shapes and sizes shaking it in the streets (as we did this past Mardi Gras) will help my daughter sidestep the kind of thought police that dogged me as a tween and teenager.
To that end, I'm also not above a little libertarian maternalism. The other day B., her father and I were at a family-friendly place when out of the blue this random guy starts dropping the FBJB (female-body-judgement bomb). He's giving a very detailed assessment of his own personal idea of the perfect female body type (and not to drop the judgement bomb myself, but let's just say that in this dude's case opposites attract). Meanwhile, my six month old daughter is blinking up at him and cooing. My mind runs through several half-baked snarky comments (for him) and several empowering mantras (for her). In the end, I roll her stroller out of there. When we are out in the fresh air and sunshine, I lean down and whisper just loud enough for her to hear,
"You are wonderful just how you are." She smiles back as if to say "Yeah mom, I've got this."
Phew.
To that end, I'm also not above a little libertarian maternalism. The other day B., her father and I were at a family-friendly place when out of the blue this random guy starts dropping the FBJB (female-body-judgement bomb). He's giving a very detailed assessment of his own personal idea of the perfect female body type (and not to drop the judgement bomb myself, but let's just say that in this dude's case opposites attract). Meanwhile, my six month old daughter is blinking up at him and cooing. My mind runs through several half-baked snarky comments (for him) and several empowering mantras (for her). In the end, I roll her stroller out of there. When we are out in the fresh air and sunshine, I lean down and whisper just loud enough for her to hear,
"You are wonderful just how you are." She smiles back as if to say "Yeah mom, I've got this."
Phew.