Worse than ironic

My mother was really into cleaning, but also my room was really more cluttered than dirty. I think when she would nag about it, that was at least partly that it was her perception of what the mother's job is. Maybe that's a stereotype, but we all watched television; we were susceptible.

Similarly, there was a lot of reinforcement that fat was bad, and that was not just about me. I remember her always dieting. I frequently referred to her 1000 calorie a day diet and some exercise books she had, especially in junior high.

I am sure that was a factor in my self-image, but I am just as sure that my father was a worse factor. He enjoyed us a lot less. It's not that I don't believe he loved us, but it was impossible to really make him happy. I felt that. 

Although there were stiff penalties for questioning my father's authority or making him feel disrespected (like not being spoken to for two and a half years after a disagreement about driving, but that was just the one time), he was not a micromanager. He was not always telling us what to do or making sure that we did it or even giving a lot of advice. That may have given the things he said more of an impact. 

I don't remember my father ever mentioning my weight, but I do remember him saying about my sister that men want greyhounds, not Saint Bernards. My sisters and I regularly make Saint Bernard jokes; sometimes you subvert the language of the oppressor by adopting it.

There was another thing said that I didn't hear, but my younger sisters did: 

"Remember, fat boys get married; fat girls don't."

Thanks for those words of wisdom, Dad.

There is a level on which we still believe that.

(Let me just throw in that when our brother got married, the main thing I remember him saying was "At least I got a skinny one.")

We know fat girls who have gotten married of course, and others who have not. It seems like there has been more confirmation that our father was right than that he was wrong.

Except, I think he might have influenced it in another way, but never being happy with us.

Again, a lot of healing has been coming to realize that was him not being happy with himself, not that his children were worse than anyone else's. 

Also, his not being a particularly good husband may have played a role in us not pursuing marriage particularly hard. Staying single might have felt more tragic if our primary marriage example had looked happy and supportive.

It's just that I know some fathers think their daughters are great; that seems to make some things easier for those daughters.

I also know some skinny daughters whose parents are really critical. While it totally seems like they should have been able to get married, they have not.

There are many contributing factors; picking out the one that makes or breaks the ability of a person to form healthy relationships may not even be possible.

I do think it would have been nice if -- no matter how harsh the outside world was -- that inside the home had felt loving and safe.

I wish that back when I could easily roller skate for 90 minutes or bike for 10 miles that -- even though I was not skinny -- that I would have been able to see myself as more than just fat. 

This is not to say that my activity made me any worthier, but it does feel like it makes all of the "for health" motivation more ludicrous. Instead of appreciating that, or myself, I kept going back to calculating 1000 calories a day, and doing the moves in Slimming Your Hips, Thighs, & Butt and 30 Days to a Flatter Stomach. That really felt like the only thing that mattered, even if nothing ever got slim or flatter.

Not only did that keep me from knowing myself better, but it made me miss something very important, which needs its own post.