Parenting by Jamie Thompson
Updated: Dec. 2, 2016
Originally Published: Sep. 13, 2016
I’m plus-sized. My daughter is plus-sized. We’re just one fabulous woman and one fabulous girl, and you know what? We’re pretty darn awesome.
But it wasn’t always this way. Before my daughter was born, I raised my fist to the universe and pleaded, “Please, just don’t let me give birth to a mini-me.” Turns out, the universe didn’t hear me.
So, here I am, a plus-sized mom determined to be everything I didn’t have as a kid: a mother who doesn’t care about how her daughter looks, her weight, or shoving diet shakes down her throat just to please others. I was committed to being the kind of mom who combats cruelty with a strong sense of self-worth.
First and foremost, I had to show that being plus-sized isn’t a bad thing—and I made sure to live that truth. It sounds like a lot of pressure, but it wasn’t really. I just went about being myself—a regular mom who happens to be plus-sized. I embraced my body, walked around confidently, and avoided conversations about dieting or bonding with other women over body hate.
I was like a real-life plus-sized celebrity when it came to selfies, and that level of self-love is nothing short of radical. To my daughter, I aimed to model that I am worthy, and every step I took was filled with confidence rather than apologizing for my presence.
Throughout her life, I’ve never been on a diet or discussed dieting in front of my daughter. My own mother, bless her, has been on one diet after another since I was born. I’ve never seen a gray hair on her head or a wrinkle on her face, nor have I seen her try a diet she didn’t like.
Growing up, my mom was obsessed with commenting on the fluctuating size of celebrities. “Back to the weight clinic,” she’d say about a pop star like it was a casual greeting. As a child, I wasn’t worried about ending up in a “fat farm,” but I was curious about it. Did it come with treats like a spa or was it more like a scene from a dystopian novel? I figured it was the latter based on my mother’s harsh remarks, only to later realize it was probably just cosmetic surgery.
I know the bar was set pretty low, but I managed to steer clear of discussing weight clinics with my daughter. You take your parenting victories where you can find them.
However, my body positivity was put to the test one day when my daughter came home from school as a little second-grader. It’s one thing to teach confidence and live in a safe bubble, but when your child steps out into the world, reality hits hard: Do you embrace body positivity, or do you deny it?
I chose to embrace it.
“Mom, do I have a pregnant belly? A kid said I have a belly that looks like I’m going to have a baby.”
It felt like forever before I responded, but I finally said, “Yes, yes you do.” Then I added, “And I do too, and we’re both awesome!”
I hoped my history of being a strong woman would lend credence to my words—that the foundation of body love I built would matter. I wanted my daughter to assess my “awesomeness” and decide if I was feeding her a line of nonsense. Denying her belly would be dishonest and leave her vulnerable. The best way to counter cruelty is with a confident “so what!” But that confidence must come from a genuine belief that there’s nothing wrong with you.
If your plus-sized child is going to thrive, you have to start by affirming their body so they can deflect hurtful comments. Then you let them shine. My daughter, for instance, dominated every arm-wrestling match in her class while towering over her peers. “Your size is power,” I told her, and I meant every word.
But let’s be real, adults can be a nightmare, especially school nurses with their “good intentions” and constant concern. Each new school year felt like gearing up for battle against weigh-ins, diabetes prevention, and “family health fairs.”
It’s clear not every school nurse is a concern troll, but I often found myself wishing for a school bully instead of dealing with the ridiculousness of it all. I made it clear on health forms to never weigh my child—she has a pediatrician for that. No, we don’t need health fairs to learn to cook “healthy” meals, thank you very much; and no, she does not have diabetes. Honestly, if I received one more “BMI letter of shame” in the mail, I might have lost it.
In our house, BMI was dubbed the Bullshit Myth Indicator—there are unhealthy thin bodies and unhealthy larger bodies. Just because someone looks a certain way doesn’t mean they have a medical degree or know what they’re talking about.
This may make me sound like a pretentious parent, and I own it! I spent years instilling my daughter with the self-confidence the world told her she shouldn’t have, and I wasn’t about to let it be dismantled by some glorified clipboard holders.
Now, it’s a waiting game to see if we’ve broken a cycle. I believe my partner and I have raised a kind child who cares for others and doesn’t seem to despise her size. While I can’t know her inner thoughts, I hope what she presents is authentic. If not, I hope she can share that with me so we can work through it together.
In summary, embracing body positivity and empowering our children to accept themselves is essential in a world that often promotes negativity. By modeling confidence and rejecting societal pressures, we can help our children thrive. For more information on related topics, check out this resource on pregnancy and home insemination. If you’re interested in fertility boosters for men, consider visiting this authority on the subject.