During my son’s check-up at two-and-a-half, he dropped his first F-bomb.
“How’s everything today?” asked the doctor, sporting a cheerful Snoopy tie and stylish glasses, as he entered the room where my toddler was amusing himself by searching for loose change beneath the exam table.
“Good,” my son replied. “I don’t have to get a shot, and I didn’t say ‘fuck’.”
The doctor chuckled while I attempted to mask my shock. I leaned in and whispered, “We use kind words!” then quickly resorted to tickling him, a tactic that had worked before when he had let the word slip at home.
Let me clarify: this was the first time his colorful vocabulary emerged in a public setting, making it feel like a real incident. As a mother of three—ages four, two, and six months—my once rigid standards had softened significantly. I had resigned to the idea that as long as his minor slip-ups stayed behind closed doors, they wouldn’t haunt me in my late-night musings.
Of course, that plan was shattered when my little linguist revealed our family’s secret to an audience. It was amusing to picture his sweet face, framed by curly hair, confidently uttering such a notorious word. Just ask my husband; he took pride in this new “skill” that he felt he had taught our son.
“I think that’s my influence,” he boasted.
“Sure, babe. Allergies,” I replied, rolling my eyes.
Determined to curb what I feared would lead to more colorful language and mischief in the future, I turned to my teaching background for solutions. I ignored his use of the word, thinking it was a cry for attention, but that approach failed miserably. I tried gentle discussions about how his words made me feel, but he just laughed. Time-outs? They only fueled his rebellion.
It became clear: “fuck” was now a permanent fixture in our household vernacular, and I dreaded the day I’d collect him from preschool and receive a talking-to from his teachers. My husband, of course, would find that scenario hilarious, but I worried about how others would perceive my son, who was still learning to navigate social interactions.
But the real F-word hit much harder than I could have anticipated. One day, while driving to our favorite juice spot, my four-year-old asked, “Mommy, am I fat?”
My heart sank as I glanced at his innocent face in the rearview mirror. “You are perfect, every part of you! What makes you ask that?” I stammered.
“Last year, Zack said I had a big fat belly, and it didn’t make me sad then. But now everyone thinks I’m fat.”
The words landed like a punch in my gut. “When I’m on the playground, some kids shout, ‘Big fat boy coming!’ when I run past.” His matter-of-fact tone crushed me.
“Those are friends making poor choices,” I managed to say, suppressing my urge to hunt down those kids. I wanted to protect him, but how do you shield a child from such cruelty?
We tried various strategies—reading books on self-love and discussing how everyone is different. My husband offered reassurance, reminding our son that he was stronger than the taunts from others. I even consulted with a therapist who suggested turning the conversation into something positive. Thankfully, his school nurtured a supportive environment that addressed bullying without singling him out.
For a time, things improved, until the next instance of someone calling him fat.
There’s an instinct to defend my son, to describe his athletic build and active lifestyle to counter any negative perceptions. But honestly, it’s not about that.
The real issue goes beyond one child’s experience. We need to stop using the word “fat” to label others or ourselves. It’s crucial to communicate to our children that words can hurt deeply. Instead of associating food with body image, we should focus on health and well-being.
Let’s also remember that boys face these issues too. We must not let any child—regardless of size—become the target of ridicule.
The cultural narrative often equates “fat” with “bad,” but we can change that. Just as we protect children from inappropriate language, we should do the same with hurtful labels. Because I’ve been on both sides, and let me tell you, “fat” hurts more than any curse word ever could.
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In summary, let’s be mindful of the words we use and the impact they have on our children and others. We have the power to create a kinder environment by eliminating harmful language from our conversations.
Keyphrase: “impact of using the word fat”
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