Recently I was out in California for The Life Coach School, which was an incredible experience. While we attendees were coaching each other, my mom’s weight came up. She was nearly 400 pounds. When I was small, early elementary school, I became so ashamed that I did not want the other students at school to see my mom and know my mom was like the fat lady in the circus. That is all my 7-year mind could compare her to. In the early 60s, there were just not that many overweight people in the nation . The only thing I had ever seen close to my mom’s weight was cartoons of the fat lady in the circus. I loved my mom completely, but at the same, I was ashamed of her. Shamed was quickly followed by deep guilt. There was no way on earth I would have wanted my mom to know that I was ashamed of her or thought of her as fat. I knew this would hurt her feelings. So at the age of 7, I was deeply shamed, guilty, and trying to protect my mom from hurt feelings.
In relaying this story of my past to the coach sitting with me, the feeling of shame started burning right up my chest, into my throat and into my eyes as they started to well up. Then the stunning “aha” hit. That was the first emotion I ate down. How was that little girl to handle all that painful emotion? I felt complete compassion for my young self. As that feeling of shame welled up in the current moment, I started crying and then realized I had been eating ALL emotions as an adult because of this one emotion from the age of 7. I started laughing through my tears at the absurdity of it.
She was an amazing mom and would do anything for her kids. She was a strong, strong-willed woman. She was a powerful, strong woman; and now I see around me powerful, strong women in my family who all stemmed from mom. Friends who met my mom adored her. Yet all my life I carried that “story” and emotion bottled up inside. Now I have a better understanding of why I have been an emotional eater. Coaching school was a place where emotions could not possibly be avoided. It was an amazing experience. After a week of coaching and being coached, I returned home emotionally clear and so much lighter. Did you have a fat mom? Can you relate? Share a comment below. I would love to hear from you.
Well written and a heart wrenching view into your past. I had the opposite childhood memories of my mom. Tiny, perfect makeup and hair and clothes. There was no winning this competition, so why try. That being said, my mom was different. I craved for Mrs. Brady to be my mom.
I remember when my own grandma, who was obese, went on a diet and became “skinny grandma”. I hated that she wanted to change. I loved her large body and her floating dresses. I found comfort in her grandness and loved sharing her with all of my friends. When she became thing, I didn’t know her. I didn’t want to get to know her. I wanted my big beautiful grandma back…and she returned after a short period of time.
Perspective…all a matter of.
I am so glad you shared your story Joann. This is where it all starts.
It’s funny, my mother wasn’t obese and never had a weight problem, nor did anyone else in my family. Being fat was something only “lazy, stupid” people were. That’s not to say that my family wasn’t steeped in shame…they just had other vices.
My daughter has taught me a lot about body image. If she catches me saying anything negative about myself she actually gets angry. And she is right! I am striving to have an attitude more like hers. I think that as a culture we are evolving in a positive way.