Dad and the Food Incident

Why aren’t I thin, I overeat

Why aren’t I pretty, long arms, big feet

Shame on me, admit defeat

With your fantasy, I can’t compete

It’s perfect

(Expectations, from Fearless Moral Inventory, by Juliet A. Wright, copyright 2010, all rights reserved.)

One of the most difficult and long-lasting issues I have with both of my parents is with my eating habits and my weight.  Dad always thought I was fat.  He picked on me about my weight a lot.  One specific incident is stuck in my brain for all time.  It has seriously affected how I feel about myself.  What I interpreted from this incident was that I was a fat, ugly, unlovable loser. 

My codependency blames this incident.  The reality is that I feel this way about myself because this is how I feel about myself.  That’s it.  My feelings and thoughts about myself are my responsibility.

Anyway, the following incident affected my inner teenager and me for years to come. 

We stopped somewhere along the New York Thruway for a snack on the way home from Madison Square Garden, where my sister had been showing.  I ordered a corn muffin with butter on it.  Dad went berserk.

“You have weight problem and you have to deal with it,” he roared in front of the whole restaurant. 

I spent the rest of the meal staring at the muffin while I tried not to cry, because Lord knows, I would have gotten in trouble for that too.  Don’t show your feelings.  I was so mortified.

We were traveling in separate cars and I was riding in Mom’s car.  When we got in the car to head home, I started bawling immediately. 

“I feel so ugly,” I said. 

“He never should have done that,” she responded.  

People get judged for being fat.  We live in a society where looks matter — a lot.  I’ve fallen right into it too.  I diet like crazy and work out like a fiend. I write down my weight every day and measure every morsel of food.  I feel better though, being lean and in shape, and I’m actually as healthy as a horse.

From that day on, my inner child has felt like a fat ugly loser.  I am currently working with a therapist, CoDA, Overeaters Anonymous (OA), Weight Watchers, my sponsor, and in an inner child workbook to rid myself of these negative belief.

Was he really mad at me? In my opinion, no.  I think he was mad that his daughters were not living up to his expectations. He was mad about Mom’s drinking.  He was mad because he didn’t marry his childhood sweetheart, Pat Fisher.  He was mad for getting disbarred.  But instead of addressing it appropriately, he yelled at me in front of the whole restaurant. He wanted me to be responsible for him by being perfect and making him look good.  How dare I make a mistake and not be perfect? Bastard.  Like he was perfect.

That was one of the most shameful moments of my whole life.