The Pattern Continues....

I grew from a fairly self-concious child into an even more self-concious teenager. I was made fun of mercilessly throughout my childhood for my weight and because I had a bed wetting problem that lasted until I was in 5th grade. In those days there were no magic pills that could help with that and even though I showered daily, I still had a smell to me.

My father used to call me Stinky. For a long time I thought it was because he thought I really smelled but I learned as I got older that it was simply an affectionate nickname.

All of the torment I went through as a child I'm sure (though I can't remember any specific incident) that I sought comfort in food time and time again. I was always a volume eater. My mother would often take us to Ponderosa where my brothers and I would gorge ourselves on fried chicken wings and french fries, and tacos, and ice cream sundaes. I remember my brother used to go to the bathroom halfway through the meal to "make room" for more food.

We'd often leave the place with chicken wings wrapped in napkins shoved into my mother's purse for later on. I believe I carried on that tradition well into adulthood. Do I wonder why my mother allowed her three chubby children to eat to that extreme, why she didn't just take us to a place where we got one meal instead of five? Yes, well obviously I do. But I don't blame her. She was only repeating a pattern that was provided for her and attempting to soften the blow of a very dysfunctional family life with positive experiences. Because of that I cannot be angry.

I wish I would have had the cognisance to know that what I was doing was only going to increase the misery in my life.

I had trouble controlling myself with everything. I'd drink a glass of apple juice and go back for another because it tasted so good. And then I'd have another. And another. Next thing I knew all of the juice was gone. I'd have two bowls of ice cream. I'd eat a bowl of cereal and not use all of the milk, so I'd pour more cereal so as not to "waste the milk" and I'd do that until the milk was gone. I mean, we didn't have tons of junk food in the house but we certainly had enough and I was creative enough to turn what we had lying around into an artery-clogging addiction.

My mom comments now about how she never would have bought Ramen noodles for us when we were younger, had she realized how bad they are for you. Parents weren't into reading lables back then and worrying about fat and clories and sodium. I used to eat two packages of Ramen for lunch and drown the darn things in butter and salt.

Food was never restricted in our house and I suppose that was part of my problem. I made the decision to eat the way I did and the volume that I did, but I was also the victim of the pre-health era where parents didn't buy low fat, low sugar, low sodium foods. No one cared about low fat ice cream when you could have full fat ice cream. Why drink diet soda when you could have the good stuff?

If I only knew then what I know now. Hindsight is definitely 20/20.