I step out of the shower and look in the mirror. I’m carrying extra weight on every inch of my body from my swollen cheeks to my thick ankles. My arms are the size my thighs should be, each thigh is the size my waist should be, and my waist is buried under a layer of fat I like to call my, “thick candy shell”. I have all my imperfections memorized. Every single one. And every time I look in the mirror, I ONLY see imperfections. I don’t want to be seen or show my face as it also holds extra weight, so I stand there and cry wondering what I ever did to deserve this.
I was born thick and have been that way ever since. My sister was the thin, blonde haired, blue eyed girl that had the same body and metabolism as my beautiful mother. I, on the other hand, was the brown haired chubby girl that had the same ‘thick’ body type and metabolism as my father.
I lived with my mom, stepfather, and sister and while they couldn’t figure out why I had a weight problem, they were quick to tell me I had to do something about it. It was now MY problem and MY responsibility. As adults we know how heavy the burden is, and how much stress we create for ourselves when we choose to go on a diet. Now imagine handing that stress and burden over to an 8 year old. An 8 year old that can’t buy their own groceries, cook their own dinner, and is told to order off a kids menu of chicken fingers, cheeseburgers, pizza and french fries.
While my family never intentionally meant to hurt me, they unknowingly contributed to my low self-esteem. I think they thought if they “teased” me for being overweight, I’d get “motivated” to do something about it. My sister called me “sausage fingers” as my fingers were short and chubby. My dad and step mom called me “flash” because I was obviously lazy and slow, and I’ll never forget walking downstairs in black and silver checkered pants and having my stepfather call me “chubby checker”. Family is supposed to love you more than anyone and are supposed to be honest, right? So if THEY call me “sausage fingers”, “flash” and “chubby checker” it must be true!
Eventually, the weight issues set in and I had no self esteem, none. If anything involved physical activity, I would pretend I didn’t feel good, or ‘forget’ my gym clothes. I remember going to pool parties of my friends and sitting out as I had “accidentally” forgotten my bathing suit. I never wanted to participate in gym class let alone sports. Being active involves running, and fat shakes. So if I have to fail gym class or not participate in activities, so be it!
I rarely raised my hand in class. If I raised my hand and my shirt accidentally came up to reveal my fat stomach, I would have been devastated. And if the teacher actually called on me, everyone would look at me. I didn’t want that either, so I just sat quietly. I was happy to settle for ‘average’ if that meant I didn’t have to speak in front of people or participate in class discussions.
I was miserable. So miserable that I don’t remember a lot of my childhood. I think I simply blanked some of it out. I was unhappy and didn’t really say much. I was a pushover. I was stood up and let down more times than I would like to admit and I settled for it. I thought that was simply all I deserved.
My beautiful mother and sister loved to go shopping, and of course…I had to go along. I used to sit on the dressing room floor and watch them try on everything from prom dresses to jeans and bathing suits. I’d listen to them say they were “fat” if the size 2 or 4 didn’t fit them, and I would think to myself, “if a size 4 = fat and I’m wearing double digits..I must be HUGE!”. As I type this, I cry remembering all the times my mom asked me why I never tried anything on, why I didn’t want to to buy clothes. I had forgotten about that.
I just turned 31 years old and there is not one day that goes by where I don’t struggle with my weight, my body image and every single thing that goes into my mouth. I still wonder if I appear to be the ‘fat girl’ when I walk into a room. I am still self conscious and still make sure I cover my stomach when I sit down. I still shutter when I have to shop for jeans, and cried when I had to buy a bathing suit.
I’ve had relationship and trust issues for the simple fact that I had no self respect. I assumed they would leave me for someone thinner and more attractive and I adopted the motto of, “guilty until proven innocent” as I was protected that way. I assumed a compliment was a lie and could turn my feelings off at the drop of a dime if I felt a threat to be hurt. I had a thick shell that was almost impossible to break into, and even once you were “in”, I could take you right out.
So why do I Train Your Kids? Simple. I don’t want kids to have to go down the path I did. The path I struggle with every day.
Bottom line is this…all my flaws and issues are the direct result of being an overweight child. I created I Train Your Kids to prevent ‘me’ from happening to other children. Your children. I want to teach proper eating habits now! I want them to adapt to an active lifestyle now! I want to show them anything can be accomplished with hard work and effort now! If they eat healthy and exercise now, they’ll never have to worry about their weight when they’re older. They won’t have to diet, worry about diabetes or suffer from damage to their self-esteem. I just want them to be kids, and be happy.
