What do you do when you don’t fit in with your family? I was born into a family of thin folks with stick straight hair. And here came this little chubbo with very curly hair. No problem. She’ll outgrow the fat stage by 3 or 4. Then we can work on that hair! We can wait it out. Then she’ll look just like the rest of us. Didn’t quite happen that way. And that set up a horrible family dynamic.
My Mom Was Delusional
I like to joke that I would have been the first switched-at-birth case if they did that way back when I was born. Except for one damning thing. . . my face was my Dad’s. If it were not for that resemblance, I swear they would have tried to give me away. There was no way he could deny me. In fact, another joke of mine to cover some of that hurt is that if he ever went to court and told the judge I wasn’t his, he would be arrested for murder as the judge would die laughing. But my Dad wasn’t the problem.
My Mom seemed to think she deserved to have beautiful blonde, light-eyed children. . . that was her mother’s coloring. But she had dark hair and eyes, as did her father and my father. Doesn’t bode well for making blonde, light-eyed kids unless you get some recessive genes whooping it up in the background. One of us has dark hair and dark eyes. I had dark auburn hair and medium-to-light brown eyes. . . . but they were still brown. Didn’t count. And let’s not forget about those curls that she dutifully tried to stick down at every turn.
A Hurt Kid
So here came my less than childhood. I knew my Mom didn’t like me much. She knew I knew it, too, and it made things awkward. As soon as she figured out I was gonna stay fat, she started dragging me to diet doctor after diet doctor. Obviously, none of it worked. Some of it may be throw-back genetics, but some it was the fact that when I figured out what was going on I sabotaged myself. Yep, I said myself. I thought I was hurting her, but. . . kids don’t think straight, especially when they’re eating cookies under the covers at night.
And Now A Damaged Teen
Somehow I managed to grow up. By my teens, I positively hated my looks and, therefore, myself. I starved myself in high school on a bet from a classmate. I won the money, but I got sick and I only stayed that small for a New York nanosecond. Luckily, I met a man who loved me for ME and not for my pants size. I never believed him. I mean, hey, you have to believe your mother, right? She would NEVER lie to you. But he stuck it out with me. It’ll be 50 years this month.
And Then A Damaged Adult
Did all of this color my perception of life? Oh, hell yeah. My Mom passed when I was 61 and I still believed her right up until she took her last breath. I was fat and ugly. My husband tried to tell me differently, but I believed her and not him. I’ve been fortunate in that something. . . I still don’t know what. . . started changing the way I saw myself. All of a sudden I could look in the mirror and not hate the face staring back at me. I’m still working on that, the total acceptance part. I’m doing a LOT better. Will I make it before the end? Film at 11. . .
Your Turn
This is my story. If you have a reason you don’t fit in with your family and/or they weren’t too kind about it, please talk about it in the comments or in a post. It helps to get it out. How do I know that? Been there/done that/bought many tear-stained shirts.
Last Word
It doesn’t have to be fat. It can be ANYTHING that makes you feel less than. Education, financial circumstances, appearance, marital status. . . . ANYTHING or ALL OF THEM. If you feel you fall into the LESS THAN category, please start working on it NOW. Why? Because. . .
You are enough. . . And you are enough RIGHT NOW!!!!