Archive for October, 2008

Something happened Saturday that I didn’t want to talk about yet.  It’s taken me a few days to think it over.  I did hesitantly share it on Obesity Help and Bariatric Eating just because I was spiraling and needed some encouragement.  I guess the best place to start is from the beginning.

When I was young, my father used to say comments to me such as:

• You’d be such a pretty girl if you just lost weight.
• You have such a pretty face. 
• Don’t you want to get married?  If you don’t lose weight, no one will want you.

I always tried to strive for my father’s acceptance and approval.  I KNOW in my logical mind that as a father, he loves me.  But in my senses and feelings, I felt often times that I was never good enough for him.  Somehow, I was a disappointment.  I felt like he never wanted me as his child.  He would have been better off without children. 

Then I decided to have weight loss surgery.  Not for him, or anyone, just to help myself.  I was facing health issues that frightened me.  My father and mother were so ecstatic that I had chosen to have surgery once they learned of all the weight I could lose.  My father told me how beautiful I “would be”.  I never really said anything to this comment.  But, it hurt me inside that it took all of that sacrifice to be loved and accepted by him.

After the surgery, and I had lost over a hundred pounds, he told me one day on the telephone how proud he was.  The words did not mean much to me.  Why?  Because I was sad that he could never love me as I was.  Whether fat or skinny, I was still his child.  Why did it take so much for him to tell me how proud he was?  I didn’t even wish to receive his comments as a good thought.  But life went on.  And this past year, the times that were once tumultous in our relationship disappeared and I thought that he and I were on better terms.

Fast forward.  I gained some weight since my lowest of 116 lbs.  It’s been terribly difficult on my mental state.  I wanted to stay at my lowest, but often times I’m in the 130 range.  On my period, I’m at 135.  Saturday I visited my parents house, feeling huge as it was period time.   My father asks me “Are you gaining MORE weight?”  Something inside me just wanted to snap at that moment.  I can’t even begin to explain how those words hurt me.  It felt as if I had been transported in time to a few years ago, prior to my gastric bypass surgery, and I was at my heaviest at 251 lbs.  I felt the same shame, unacceptableness to my father that I felt then.  Nothing had changed. 

I told him that I had gained a few pounds, and how horrible it had made me feel.  I was hoping to gain his understanding and he went on to say “You know what to do about it. Stop eating so much.”  My mother tried to tell my father that I needed to gain some weight, and how wonderful and healthy she thought I looked… no longer frail.  But, he kept on.  She was raising her voice, I was raising my voice, he was standing there as if he had nothing to feel bad for.  I told him no longer, NO longer, was he allowed to speak to me about my weight…  that he caused me to feel the exact same way that he did when I was 251 lbs.  And, that I would not allow him to do that to me. 

I am not really certain what sparked that episode.  I did not know those issues ran so deep inside.  But once I had left the house, I immediately called Tim and rehashed the entire conversation.  Was I too fat? Did I need to go on a diet?  What was wrong with me that my father couldn’t love me for what I am?  Not for what I can look like… not for what I could be… but for who I am – - his child.  Period. 

You know, in the past, the first place I would have gone after a fight with him is to the local Shoneys or Sonic.  I would have purchased the biggest, richest most chocolatey hot fudge cake you have ever seen in your life.  They used to be my friend when I was lonely.  Every bite of smooth rich dark chocolate slid down my throat, coating my fears and pain better than any pain medicine.  I could have rewritten the old song “Tear in my beer” with “Tears in my hot fudge cake” because as I wept, I ate my sweet sensation dessert until I felt no more pain.  My tears dried, my heart felt better.  But, not this time.

I did stop in at a custard store for a sugar free frozen custard.  But that’s because I had it on my mind that day anyway before the episode.  And before purcashing it, I asked myself, “Melinda, WHY are you going in there?  Is it because you really WANT it or because of your anger towards your father?”  Had I wanted to get even, or hurt myself somehow, I would not have stopped at sugar free desserts.  I would have gone all out and gotten my formerly passionate hot fudge cake.  No, I was doing this for the right reason.  I had thought it out already, and I purposely planned and purchased the sugar free treat.  Afterwards, I felt satisfaction that I was able to enjoy it with no ill effects such as dumping or guilt.  And I realized also that it did not have the same effect on me as food did in the past.  There was no comfort.  There was no needing more.  My relationship with food has changed.  I consume it because of physical need for nourishment or desire for taste, not out of emotional insecurity or needing comforted.

At any rate, that’s my story.  Not sure where I needed to go with it… except to share.