“Maybe it’s best to give Ben some space for a bit,” I overheard Alex telling his dad in the next room. “He’s in a really bad mood. I poked him a little, and he picked me up and tossed me.”
While not exactly encouraged, these displays of Hulk-like strength are a regular occurrence around here. For the most part, the siblings get along just fine. We’ve had numerous discussions – and will probably continue to repeat them – about the importance of managing emotions, especially when anger or frustration strikes and the urge to lash out arises.
I was raised in a household filled with girls: a sister, countless cousins, and a close-knit group of friends. I can’t recall everything, but I can confidently say that no one ever resorted to throwing someone as a means of expression.
Girls tend to display aggression differently, often using words that may sound sweet but can be deeply hurtful, coupled with side-eye glances and maybe a sympathetic pout. No physical damage occurs, but emotional scars can linger.
I was particularly sensitive to certain subjects as a young girl. Weight and body image were common weapons in girl combat, and I had friends who could deliver stealthy insults.
My best friend in eighth grade and I frequently discussed our dieting strategies, comparing notes and weighing ourselves at each other’s houses to “test” our scales. I distinctly remember the moment she slightly raised an eyebrow as I stepped on the scale one day. We watched the numbers fluctuate, akin to a ticking time bomb.
“Well, I thought that number would look a bit chubbier on someone your height,” she said.
BOOM. Too late to escape. I was already a casualty.
“Uh-huh,” I replied, attempting to sound indifferent.
We never discussed fitness or nutrition. Instead, our conversations revolved around how many meals we could skip and various tactics to stave off hunger.
In my home today, we don’t really talk about body weight or self-esteem with the kids. I suspect they don’t dwell on such topics either.
And they shouldn’t.
We do, however, talk about food. With multiple allergies in the family, my goal is to cater to everyone without turning into a short-order cook, which makes dinner discussions quite frequent.
Exercise is another topic of importance. My partner and I run regularly, and depending on the season, the kids switch between swimming, skiing, and kicking a soccer ball around. We discuss foods that fuel their energy for sports and those that might lead to lethargy or asthma attacks due to allergies.
We also talk about how their tastes are evolving as they grow, encouraging them to try foods they once disliked because their palates may have changed. We discuss pickiness and its maddening effects. We even talk about what goes into chicken nuggets and how a steady diet of just white, starchy foods can lead to health issues.
What we never discuss is weight – not ever.
So when I heard an argument brewing between them recently, I hesitated to intervene at first. I try to stay out of it unless someone’s getting hurt or if it’s really bothering me.
This time, however, someone called someone else “fatty.”
That’s when I realized I had my own Hulk-sized issues. When the “Momma Hulk” emerges, it’s usually because someone has insulted one of my loved ones. In a flash, I transformed from mild-mannered mom to a giant, green, furniture-smashing monster.
“You don’t call your brother FAT. You don’t call ANYONE FAT. Got it?”
(This isn’t word-for-word; let’s just say expletives may have slipped out).
“Uh, okay, Mom,” they replied, clearly taken aback by my outburst. What was the big deal? No one had actually been thrown.
Later, as we drove together, the atmosphere was calm—a perfect moment to discuss body image and why Hulk Mom had made an appearance.
I shared my own experiences from their age, discussing feelings of inadequacy and how they shaped my self-perception for years. I explained how long it took for me to appreciate my body for its capabilities rather than the numbers on a scale.
Silence hung in the air for a moment.
“We don’t think we’re fat, Mom,” Alex piped up from the back seat. “That’s just something we say.”
Clearly, I had overanalyzed the situation. What? I have baggage.
“I’m still gonna call you a turd bucket, Ben,” Alex joked with a grin. “Because sometimes you are one.”
“Go ahead,” Ben retorted. “I’ll just punch you right in the face.”
This article was originally published on Jan. 12, 2011.
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Summary:
Navigating body image issues while parenting can be challenging. The author reflects on her experiences growing up surrounded by girls and how those experiences shape her reactions to her children’s interactions. While she strives to maintain a healthy dialogue about food and exercise, she emphasizes the importance of not discussing weight. The piece illustrates how misunderstandings can arise and highlights the need for open communication about self-image in a lighthearted yet serious manner.