By: Michelle Thompson
I’m not going to sugarcoat it: I’m fat. My daughter, Lily, is also fat. Together, we’re a dynamic duo of confidence, and honestly, we think we’re pretty awesome.
But let’s rewind a bit. Before Lily was born, I found myself praying, “Please, whoever is up there, let me not give birth to a mini version of myself.” Clearly, that prayer went unanswered, because here we are.
As a mother, I was determined to be everything my own mom wasn’t. She was always preoccupied with weight and diets, and I had no intention of putting Lily through that. I was committed to showing her that her worth is not defined by her size or appearance. I wanted to arm her against the judgmental world with love and positivity.
To do this, I had to live my truth and demonstrate that being fat isn’t a negative thing. Sounds daunting, right? Surprisingly, it wasn’t. I simply went about being me—a regular mom who happens to be fat. I embraced my body, walked around confidently, and never engaged in conversations about dieting. I didn’t bond with other women over weight loss or negative self-talk. Instead, I was like a fat version of a Kardashian when it came to selfies, and in our world, that kind of self-love is revolutionary.
I wanted Lily to see that I valued myself, and each step I took was filled with confidence, not shame. I’ve never been on a diet, nor have I discussed dieting in front of her. My own mother was always on some new diet plan, but I aimed to break that cycle.
Then came the day Lily returned from school as a small second-grader, looking puzzled. “Mom, do I have a pregnant belly? A kid said I look like I’m going to have a baby.” Time stood still as I considered my response. Finally, I said, “Yes, you do. And so do I. But you know what? We’re awesome just the way we are.”
In that moment, I hoped my history of embracing body positivity would resonate with her. I wanted her to see that her body is worthy of love and respect. Denying her belly would have only left her feeling vulnerable and insecure. Instead, I equipped her with the mindset to deflect any negativity that might come her way.
“Your size is power,” I told her, and I meant every word. But the real challenge often came from the adults, particularly school nurses with their well-meaning but misguided concerns. Each new school year felt like gearing up for battle against weigh-ins, diabetes prevention, and unsolicited health fair invitations.
I made it clear on health forms to avoid weighing Lily—her pediatrician can handle that—and I didn’t need schools telling me how to cook “healthy meals.” And don’t even get me started on those dreaded “BMI letters of shame.” In our household, BMI was renamed the Bullshit Myth Indicator. There are unhealthy bodies of all sizes, and no one should judge health based solely on appearance.
I might have seemed like a nightmare parent to some, but I was determined to instill in Lily the self-confidence that society often tries to strip away. Now, I wait to see if the cycle of negativity has been broken. My partner and I have raised a kind-hearted girl who seems to embrace her body, but I can’t know her inner thoughts. I hope she feels good about herself, and if she doesn’t, I want her to feel safe enough to tell me. We can work through it together.
If you’re interested in more insights on parenting and body positivity, check out this blog post for further reading. And for those considering at-home insemination, reputable retailers like Make A Mom provide excellent kits. Additionally, for comprehensive information on pregnancy, visit WomensHealth.gov, which is a great resource for new parents.
In summary, my journey as a fat mom raising a fat daughter is all about embracing body positivity and confidence. I aim to equip Lily with the tools she needs to thrive in a world that often scrutinizes appearances.
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