“Mom, can I put on my swimsuit and go run in the sprinkler?”
“Sure, I need to water the front anyway.”
Doesn’t she need to water the back? Certainly it needs it more.
“I wanna go out back though.”
“I just watered back there yesterday honey.”
Well never mind then.
I’m not going out front in my swimsuit. NO way.
She pipes up in her sunny voice once again. “You can go out front and play too. Daddy will be home soon and you can wave at him when he pulls up!”
No thanks.
“Do you want a snack before dinner?”
No, I don’t want a stupid snack. I already had a snack. I’m chubby enough and don’t need you to feed me anymore. What, do you WANT me to be fat?
The backyard has a fence. No one can see me there.
I can run through the cool waterfall without any worries. The girth of my waistline won’t offend anyone out back. The fact that Mom had to buy me a swimsuit at least two sizes bigger than my friends’ thankfully cannot be seen from the other side of the 8 foot fence.
And speaking of clothes for bigger girls. Don’t they make soccer shorts for girls with thighs that are NOT as thin as sticks? Those dumb shorts don’t fit me. I can barely run in them. I kinda want to torch them.
Sometimes I really wish that my body wasn’t this way. I dream of frolicking in the spray of water in the soft, green grass out front while smiling, not at all mindful of the people staring at the fat girl as they drive by. Instead of seeing big legs and rolls I would see legs that can easily fit into those soccer shorts and a flat stomach too.
But that is not the case. Here I am in the kitchen with her now, while she’s making dinner. Something fattening I’m sure.
“Where’s your swimsuit?”
“I changed my mind.”
She can tell by the look on my face.
“You know what. There’s a little part of the side yard out back that probably still needs watering. You can run in the sprinkler out there. Sound good?”
I lift my double chin, nodding up at her. I hope she cannot see the tears forming.
“And when you come back in you can dry off and dinner will be ready. Oh and we have apple pie for dessert!”
Stupid apple pie. So good.
I can’t wait.
This was written for The Red Dress Club RemembeRED prompt which was inspired by this photo:
you made me cry, honey. I want to give your younger self a big hug. Such hard words to speak here, and give a vivid picture of your internal dialogue. I think I hate that the picture prompt took you to this moment, but you wrote it so well. My oldest daughter has been overweight for several years, and it hurts me to think that this internal dialogue happens to her as well. Thank you for opening up your heart, you are brave and beautiful.
Beautifully written, Elaine.
Awww that was kind of sad. 🙁
Beautifully written and so sad. Thanks for sharing this, it must have been a tough thing to share.
Gosh, it starts so early doesn’t it. I remember thinking that I was heavier than the other girls and just hating it. I’m constantly on top of Baby Girl about it. If she asks for water instead of milk I’m all, “why do you want water? what’s that about? are you ok?” I’m probably doing the reverse of not noticing, which is probably just as bad.
Oh, Elaine. I was that girl, too. Sometimes still am, I suppose. This was so precious, so beautiful. I have a lump in my throat. So well written. Whew. Thank you for sharing and I’m sorry you have this sad memory, but I am glad you were able to channel it into this prompt.
Oh hon, I don’t even know what to say. xoxo
Gosh the battle between food, body and desires is so hard, and sometimes it feels like it never gets easier. Structurally, I thought your responsive thoughts to your mother’s actual dialogue worked really well here.
I thought these 8 words said so, so much.
“Stupid apple pie. So good.
I can’t wait. “
It’s so sad that the body image stuff starts so early, and that it could ruin something as wonderful and simple and running through sprinklers. The last line made me giggle just a little bit. I’ve felt the same way about that stupid apple pie.
I agree–I want to give that little girl a hug.
This was really touching. I could feel the push pull you were going through.
I thought the internal dialogue worked very well.
I know this feeling so well. My whole life I’ve avoided my bathing suit. You wrote about those feelings well.
I totally get this. I have been eating disordered for as long as I can remember. So sad but so beautifully told. Thank you for sharing.
Elaine, this was amazing. So perfectly done. You showed so much, I could relate so much.
I’m really glad that she saw your eyes and “remembered” the spot in the back.
Also? Yeah, apple pie is so stupid and so good all rolled up into one.
XO
I wish you’d had more confidence back then. How awful that you felt like that so young. 🙁
Very touching, Elaine. I’m gonna stop there. No more words.
Oh, I agree with Shell – I wish the same. You took me back, since I have struggled on and off my whole life with weight. You are a beautiful woman – inside and out. Amazing post.
p.s. I just responded to your comment at mine and I didn’t realize that you posted this today. I hadn’t been to the TRDC site since early this morning. The post about your Grandma would’ve been great, but this was fabulous too.
Elaine, my heart aches for you. Brilliantly written and I am betting so many girls and women can relate!
This makes my heart ache for that young you, and young me too because I was the same way.
SO well written!
This is written with such honesty. It captures the feelings of self-doubt so heartbreakingly accurately. I was struck as I read it by the picture of your beautiful face right beside these words. Why do we perpetuate a culture that could make someone like you-or me- feel so crappy about our appearance?! So sad, but you certainly nailed the feelings.
My mom was a food comforter too. Any time I was down she would make me something “special”. It was usually fattening, but we didn’t have a lot of money and that was her way of giving of herself. I can sympathize with often feeling that way as a child and sometimes to this day as those thoughts, feelings and visions of one’s self are hard to part with.