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WHAT'S ON YOUR MIND?

Mothers

4 comments | January 20th, 2012

We first published this back in the early days of OOC, and just bumped into it again.  We thought it merited another passwith you, our new and larger audience, because so much of who we are today and how we feel about us, has to do with how our parents (often times our moms) helped us to feel…or not.

Sooooooo, did your mother teach you well, or were hers lessons you'd just as soon forget?  What?  Why?  Did your mom help instill self-resepct and self-confidence or self-loathing?  Was she happy with who she was?  How do you think that affects how you feel about you – now?  Moms.  Let's share.

4 comments

  • Bella

    Posted on January 20, 2012

    When I was young, there was little I liked more than watching my mom get dressed for a night out with my dad. The accessories, makeup, fancy clothes. When I was 7 or 8, I began to notice how critical she was of herself. Her tummy “bulged”. Her “bottom looks big”. Her breasts not big enough. She was so beautiful and filled with so much self-hate.

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  • Sydney

    Posted on January 20, 2012

    There was way too much emphasis on how everyone looked in my house. Being overweight was like a federal crime! I was really embarrassed by the way my mom and dad judged people. I have tried to be different, but turns out I’m not completely immune to their influence. I don’t vocalize my judgments, but sometimes they are there. Ugh.

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    • Eva@OOC

      Posted on January 20, 2012

      Oh, if only we could choose all the ways we want to be like our parents and all the ways we would like to be different! I think most of us struggle with this issue on a daily basis. The best we can do is try. Thanks for sharing. Many of us can relate!

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  • Lana

    Posted on January 24, 2012

    When I was 14, my mom told me that, for her, 130 lbs was “big.” At that time, I weighed about 165 lbs. In that moment, I wanted to kill myself. She wasn’t telling me to lose weight, she was expressing her own dissatisfaction with her body. My mom has a curvy hourglass figure – she’s wears a 32DD Bra and size 12 pants. Her waist is tiny but she has our family’s hips bodacious booty. My whole life, my mother talked about food, and she still does. She decides to “hate” foods that have “too much fat,” like cheesecake, which, I recently found out, she actually loves but told me that she hated it my whole life. She won’t even drink a latte because it has “too much milk.” She has been on Weight Watchers my entire life and when we went around the table to say what we were thankful for at Rosh Hashanah (Jewish New year) she said “weight watchers.” Her weight is a constant discussion. If she eats a cookie she says, “Guess I’ll get back to my regular eating on Monday.” When I ate ice cream, she would say things like, “You’re going to eat all that?” Unsurprisingly, I developed an eating disorder during my Junior year of high school and 4 years later, I am still consumed by thoughts of food. I still write down every calorie that enters my body, and I can’t go an hour without reciting back to myself everything that I have eaten in order to calm myself down. At one point, I told my mom that her own negative body image and constant talking about her body and what is wrong with it and food and what is wrong with it significantly influenced me in a very negative way, and she said, “Well, nobody’s perfect. I guess I’m not the perfect mother.” For a little while, I think she watched what she said more, but now she has completely reverted to her old behavior of discussing it all the time. The funny thing is, my Grandma recently told me, “I don’t let myself eat sandwiches. I don’t need all that bread.” Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. All I can do is promise myself that when I have children I will make sure that they know that they are beautiful and smart and important and kind, regardless of any number. In fact, maybe we won’t even have a scale in our house. I also want to end this by saying that my mother is my best friend, and I think she’s an amazing person. I just wish that she could accept herself so that I can accept myself.

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