My Childhood Obesity Storylines
All this talk about childhood obesity made me want to share my story with you.
I’m 24 years old now, and I weigh less now than when I was 10 years old.
I grew up in a house where “Eat everything on your plate” was a motto and a mantra. We wouldn’t be allowed to leave the table until our plates were licked clean. The problem was that the portions we were being served were massive. We had at least 3-4 cups of rice per meal. It would be piled so high that it would look like a little hill on the plate. The rice would have butter and oil added to it. The chicken, fish, and meat were always fried. Always. We had no vegetables. It was literally a pile of greasy rice with grease laden protein on top. And it was deliciously addictive.
For snacks we would have crisps, ice cream, biscuits, and chocolate. It was never portioned out. It was all just laid out in front of us and we were told to eat as much as we wanted.
Now imagine not being taught how to listen to your body’s hunger and satiety clues and then given the opportunity to eat as much junk as you wanted.
Eating and giving food is a huge part of my culture. It is how we show love towards one another. It’s how we show people that we care about them. This is a big factor in why we were fed this way and why we have such distorted thoughts about food.
Not surprisingly, we were all fat. We were sluggish, lazy, and listless. Our hobbies consisted of reading and playing video games. We didn’t play any sport.
Then the teasing started. Our parents would make fun of us for being so fat (they were also fat themselves). And yet they never ever changed a single thing in our lifestyle. Yeah like a 9 year old can control her own weight when she’s eating garbage food. As if a 9 year old can count her calories and choose fruit over chocolate — especially seeing as how we were never taught that chocolate was a special treat and not something to be eaten all day every day.
They used to encourage us to get second, third, and fourth helpings whenever we finished out plates. Then when we got “too fat”, they started telling us off. “Stop eating so much you are gonna explode! Look at how massive your stomach is! You look pregnant!” Imagine hearing that as a child. The worst thing is that they would shout at us while they themselves were getting extra helpings of food and getting fatter and fatter.
My younger brother has a BMI of 55. Yes. Fifty-five. My parents make fun of him and tell him to stop eating so much junk. How? How can you tell him to stop eating the way he was raised on?! And how can you say all these things and then tell him off for not finishing everything on his plate?!
The “Clean your plate” mentality lived on with me throughout my entire life. I just can’t get rid of it. I had a BMI of 34. I cook my own meals now. I still do “finish my plate” but this time I pile my plate high in steamed and roasted veg. I measure my protein, fats, and carbs. Instead of ice cream and biscuits for snacks I have fruit and vegetables. I had to reprogram my brain. I slimmed down to a BMI of 22.3. It was so difficult. It would have been so much easier if I didn’t have these shitty irresponsible thoughts about eating.
Childhood obesity more often than not develops to adult obesity. Parents are responsible for their children’s health.
- Do not overfeed your children. - Do not use food as a reward, children are not dogs. - Do not give them too much food and then say “It’s because I love you so much”, you are teaching your child to equate food with love. - Feed them appropriate amounts of food. Let them see and learn what appropriate amounts of food are. - Teach them portion control. - Teach them to listen to hunger and satiety clues. - Teach them what healthy foods are and what makes them healthy. - Provide them with healthy food and snacks. - For the love of GOD do not force them to finish their plate.
I had a crappy relationship with food. I still kinda do. But I’m older and wiser and can make my own decisions. It’s a struggle. Please do not do this to your children. Please.
