The first time my son dropped the F-bomb was during his two-and-a-half-year checkup. “How’s everything going today?” asked the pediatrician, sporting a cheerful Snoopy tie and wire-rimmed glasses. My little one, who was exploring under the exam table for loose change, replied, “Good! I didn’t say ‘fuck’.”
I had to stifle a laugh as I mentally prepared my shocked-mother face. I leaned in and whispered firmly, “We use kind words!” and tickled him to distract from his unexpected outburst. It was his first public utterance of that word, and I knew I had to address it.
Initially, I approached motherhood with a perfectionist mindset (think: unrealistic expectations). But as the mother of three—ages four, two, and six months—my standards have shifted to a more realistic approach. Minor missteps were easier to overlook as long as they were kept private. But now, with my little linguist broadcasting our “secret” to a professional, I felt a wave of dread wash over me.
Although I found his use of the F-word amusing, my husband was more than ready to take credit for this linguistic achievement. “That’s definitely my influence,” he said with a grin.
In an effort to curb this behavior, I tried various tactics from my teaching toolbox. Ignoring it? No luck. Discussing my feelings about it? He just laughed. Time-outs? They only fueled his defiance. It became painfully clear: “fuck” was here to stay.
I worried that one day I’d pick him up from preschool only to be confronted by his teachers about his language—something my husband secretly hoped would happen for comic relief. But instead, I faced an entirely different F-word that hit much harder.
“Mommy, am I fat?” My heart sank as I caught a glimpse of his innocent face in the rearview mirror. We were on our way to grab some green juices—one of our little rituals—when he dropped this bombshell.
“Of course not! You’re perfect just the way you are,” I replied weakly. But he continued, recounting how another child had called him “big fat belly,” and now it seemed everyone thought he was fat. The pain in his voice was like a punch to my gut.
“When I run around the playground, some kids shout ‘Big fat boy coming!’” he said with a calmness that belied the hurt behind his words. In that moment, I wanted to shield him from all the hurtful things kids can say, but how could I protect him from this kind of pain?
We tried reading books about self-love and body positivity, and my husband reassured him that he was stronger than the hurtful words of others. I consulted with a therapist who suggested we focus on what he could do better because of his size. Thankfully, his school provided a supportive environment, ensuring he felt included without drawing unnecessary attention to his experiences.
However, the issue didn’t just disappear; it reappeared when another child called him fat. Part of me wanted to defend my son, to describe how he’s tall, strong, and active. But in reality, it doesn’t matter.
The real takeaway here is simple: stop using the word “fat” to label people. It inflicts pain, and we must be mindful of how we speak about ourselves and others. Teach your children to understand that health and happiness are not defined by size.
We guard our children from the F-word, so let’s do the same with “fat.” Believe me, the latter hurts more. For more insights on navigating these conversations, check out our other blog posts at https://intracervicalinsemination.com/blog/.
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Summary
This article explores the emotional weight of the word “fat” and its impact on children. It recounts a mother’s struggle to address her son’s concerns about body image, emphasizing the importance of positive language and self-acceptance. It advocates for a shift in how we discuss body size, urging parents to protect their children from harmful labels.