In the Beginning....

I'll set the entire story up by telling you that both of my parents were nice enough looking individuals of about average size until after 1) they had children and 2) dad started drinking. So I was predisposed to my "condition" before I was even a thought in my parent's heads or a pain in their butt's.

I was the third child born to an interracial couple in the early 80's. My mother and father had met 7 years prior to my birth and were married, having my oldest brother Chris in '74 and my other brother Devon in '78.

We were a classically dysfunctional family and I suppose that was another (one of many!) strike against me.

I was a "normal" child up until about the age of 6 or so. I was short for my age but still thin and no one was concerned for my future as an overweight person. At 6 years old an event which is still mostly repressed in my mind kind of kicked off the weight gain and the continuing dysfunction in my family only furthered it.

My earliest memory of being ashamed of myself for my weight was in third grade. My teacher, Mrs. K (I swear if I met that woman in public today...) decided it would be a good idea to weigh each of her students on a weekly basis in front of the entire class.

At 8 years old I was just about 95 lbs or so...when I should have been maybe 60 or 70 lbs. There was one other kid in our class - Frankie - who was a big kid too. The other classmates made bets on who would make it to 100 lbs first. I'm not sure who "won" but I remember how humiliating it was to have to go through that. I just assumed that I didn't have a choice and so I suffered through these weigh-ins. I suppose not speaking up for myself where I felt I was wronged set the tone for the rest of my childhood/young adult years.

Do I blame other people because I grew up to be overweight? No. Not really. There were circumstances which, had they been avoided, may have helped my own self esteem enough so that I didn't need to seek comfort in food, yes. But blaming someone else for my choices is not something you'll read about here.

My mother struggled with her weight as an adult and as a result of that I learned some bad habits. Whenever us kids did something good, we went out to eat to celebrate or mom made something special for us at home. Whenever we had a special event, we went out to eat or mom made something special for us at home. Whenever anyone had a special day ie., birthday, anniversary, what have you...we went out to eat to celebrate or mom made something special for us at home. Whenever we had nothing to do...we went out to eat or went for ice cream. Do you see the pattern here?

I learned to appreciate food as a comforter, stress-reliever, treat, way to celebrate, form of entertainment, etc etc etc. This does not make for a person who will form a healthy relationship with food I'm afraid.