I embrace my size. My daughter embraces hers. Together, we form one proud plus-sized woman and one confident little girl, and honestly, we’re absolutely amazing.
But our journey to self-acceptance wasn’t always straightforward. Prior to my daughter’s arrival, I found myself wishing fervently, “Please, universe, don’t let her inherit my body.” Apparently, the universe didn’t heed my plea.
Thus, this plus-sized mother was determined to be everything I lacked as a child: a parent who wouldn’t obsess over appearances, a mother who wouldn’t pressure my daughter into dieting for the sake of others’ opinions. I wanted to be the kind of mom who combats negativity with a powerful arsenal of self-love.
My first step was to demonstrate that being fat isn’t a curse word—it’s simply part of who we are. It may sound daunting, but it simply meant living authentically as a regular mom who is also plus-sized. I embraced my body, walked around in my skin without shame, and avoided negative self-talk. Instead of bonding with other women over weight loss or body hatred, I celebrated myself.
Much like a plus-sized Kardashian with selfies, I embraced my body, and that level of self-love can be seen as revolutionary. I wanted my daughter to see that I was valuable and that every step I took radiated confidence instead of insecurity.
Throughout her life, I’ve never been on a diet or discussed dieting in front of my daughter. My own mother, bless her, has been on a perpetual quest for the next diet since the day I was born. I’ve never seen her natural hair color or a wrinkle on her face, nor a diet she didn’t try.
Growing up, my mother was fixated on critiquing Stevie Nicks’ fluctuating body. “Back to the fat farm,” she’d say as casually as others say “hello.” As a young girl, I was more curious than worried about ending up in the fat farm—did it have chocolates like a spa, or was it more like a nightmarish dystopia? It seemed the latter, judging by my mother’s disdain, but I eventually concluded it was probably just liposuction.
While I know the bar was set low, I managed to steer clear of discussing fat farms with my daughter. You take the parenting victories wherever you can find them, no matter how small.
However, one pivotal moment came when my daughter returned home from school as a young second-grader. While I had cultivated an atmosphere of confidence, the outside world can be harsh.
“Mom, do I have a pregnant belly? A kid said I look like I’m going to have a baby.”
The pause felt endless before I finally responded, “Yes, yes you do. And so do I, and that’s perfectly okay.” I hoped my history as a strong woman would validate my words—that the foundation of body love I had built brick by brick had made an impact. I wanted her to assess my “awesomeness” and determine if I was feeding her nonsense.
Denying her body wouldn’t just be a lie—it would leave her vulnerable. The best way to combat cruelty is with a genuine “so what!” attitude, rooted in self-acceptance.
If your child is larger, validating their body is essential for them to deflect hurtful remarks. Then you let them shine. My daughter dominated in arm wrestling while being taller than her classmates. “Your size is your power,” I’d remind her, and I meant it.
But adults can be quite the challenge, especially school nurses with their so-called “good intentions.” Each new school year, I prepared for the absurdity of weigh-ins and health fairs.
Not every school nurse was problematic, but I often found myself wishing for the school bully instead of the adults with their misguided concern. I noted on health documents that my child should never be weighed—her pediatrician would handle that. We didn’t need health fairs to learn about “healthy” cooking, and no, she absolutely did not have diabetes. And if I received one more “BMI letter of shame,” I was ready to lose it.
In our home, BMI stood for Bullshit Myth Indicator—there are unhealthy bodies of all sizes.
I may have seemed like a pretentious parent, but I dedicated years to instilling confidence in my child that the world tried to strip away—and I wouldn’t allow it to be undone by some glorified clipboard.
Now, it’s a waiting game to see if the cycle has been broken. My partner and I have raised a kind-hearted child who seems to embrace her size. I can’t know her innermost feelings, but I trust what she shows me. If not, I hope she’ll share her truth so we can navigate it together.
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In summary, I embrace my size, and I encourage my daughter to embrace hers. We are both powerful and confident, breaking the mold of societal expectations.