As a plus-size mother raising three kids, I often find myself in a position where I feel the need to justify their eating habits, physical activities, and body shapes. There’s an internal pressure to clarify how they eat and exercise so that no one can accuse me of instilling “bad habits” in them or putting them at risk of becoming overweight like me.
This stems from the pervasive internalized fatphobia I experience. Despite my efforts to embrace my body, societal myths and negative attitudes towards fatness still influence my feelings in specific contexts. The bias against larger bodies is so ingrained in our culture that I will likely always grapple with the impulse to defend my body and my parenting choices.
However, I know deep down that I don’t owe anyone an explanation. My kids are healthy and wonderful, and even if they weren’t, I shouldn’t have to justify my parenting based on my own body size. The societal judgments I face regarding my health are rooted in diet culture and fatphobia and not reflective of my actual well-being—something only I can truly assess.
I take great care of myself—physically, mentally, and emotionally—and I feel well-equipped to nurture healthy habits in my children. At home, we emphasize the importance of movement and a balanced diet, teaching them that it’s essential to choose clothes that fit comfortably, regardless of the label size. We even talk about how different foods impact their health and growth.
What we consciously avoid discussing is how food relates to their appearance. The complexities surrounding body size extend far beyond just diet. If one of my children were to gain weight, I wouldn’t want them to look back on their eating habits with regret or develop mindsets that could lead to lifelong disordered eating patterns.
This concern is valid. As Alissa Rumsey, a registered dietitian and author of “Unapologetic Eating: Make Peace with Food and Transform Your Life,” points out, a child is 242 times more likely to develop an eating disorder than to be diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes.
We frequently hear about the so-called “childhood obesity epidemic” and the alarming rise in Type 2 diabetes rates, often portraying overweight children as health threats. Yet, perhaps we should be more concerned that the fixation on thinness and discussions about body image may be paving the way for children to develop lifelong disordered eating habits.
As Rumsey notes, out of 100,000 children, only 12 would have Type 2 diabetes, but 2,900 could meet the criteria for an eating disorder. While those 12 children are indeed important and need careful health management, the likelihood that my child could become one of the 2,900 is significantly higher. This risk increases as they grow, especially for my daughter, where three-quarters of women in the U.S. will face disordered eating in their lifetime.
I want my kids to thrive physically, but their mental health is just as crucial. If I damage their relationship with food while trying to maintain societal ideals about their bodies, I would be doing them a disservice, and that’s something I refuse to do.
Rumsey emphasizes that societal ideals of thinness and the stigma against larger bodies are the most significant environmental factors contributing to eating disorders. Unfortunately, my children will inevitably encounter the same anti-fat narratives that have impacted me throughout my life. I can’t shield them from these harmful messages entirely, but I can create a home environment that promotes body neutrality.
In our household, there’s no ideal body; the body you have is the one you’re meant to have, no matter its appearance. We also maintain a neutral stance on food, offering a variety of options without assigning moral values to them. Food is meant to nourish, fuel our bodies, and foster connections with loved ones. I want my kids to enjoy the joy food can bring without the burden of guilt or shame.
Of course, I will be attentive to their health as they grow, regardless of their body size. While I acknowledge that Type 2 diabetes in children is a legitimate concern, we also need to prioritize the mental health of the many children who might develop disordered eating habits due to fear of gaining weight.
If we can’t stop stigmatizing larger bodies because it’s harmful and cruel, we should at least challenge anti-fat bias for the sake of the thousands of children absorbing these damaging messages. This could help them avoid depriving their bodies of the nourishment they need out of fear of overeating.
For more insights on similar topics, check out our post on the importance of mental health in parenting. Additionally, if you’re interested in boosting fertility, visit Make a Mom for expert advice. For comprehensive information on pregnancy, the CDC is a great resource: CDC Pregnancy.
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In summary, while it’s essential to monitor children’s health, we must also be mindful of the greater risk of disordered eating that stems from societal pressures surrounding body image. Creating a supportive and neutral environment can help foster a healthier relationship with food and body image, ultimately benefiting their overall well-being.
Keyphrase: Children and Eating Disorders
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