When I learned I was expecting twin girls, tears of joy filled my eyes. Having already been blessed with an adorable son who was nearly two, the thought of having twin daughters felt like a dream come true. As a child, I often tried to persuade my mother that I might actually be a twin, waiting for my other half to be found.
Yet, alongside my excitement came a wave of anxiety. Research indicates that daughters of mothers with eating disorders have an 11 times higher likelihood of developing one themselves. Although I have largely overcome my battle with anorexia, the fear lingered that I might inadvertently project my own issues with body image and food onto those innocent little girls. I refuse to let that happen.
To my daughters, I make these promises:
I vow that whenever we stand in front of a mirror together, I will notice if you have food stuck in your teeth or if your skirt is caught in your underwear. I will not focus on your weight, and you will never hear me comment on mine.
At dinner, I promise to eat alongside you, filling my plate just as I fill yours. We will share meals, engage in conversations about food, and savor every bite together. Food is not our adversary.
I promise you that your bodies are capable of incredible things, and regardless of their shape, they will always embody beauty, health, and strength.
When we discuss other women—which we will—I promise it will be in a respectful manner. We will have open conversations about body image, but derogatory terms like “fat” or “disgusting” will never be part of our dialogue. I will never compare you to anyone else, especially not to each other.
If others speak negatively about you, I will ensure their words do not define who you are. Terms like “fat” or “ugly” are merely words. I will be there to comfort you when you feel hurt, and while I may feel a surge of protectiveness, I will remind you that you are strong enough to rise above such comments.
When life throws challenges my way and my instinct is to retreat into unhealthy habits—like restricting food or hiding my feelings—I will consciously remind myself that no fleeting control over my weight is worth the risk of passing on those struggles to you.
If you ever express a desire to diet, I will engage in open dialogue with you. While I may feel a wave of panic at the thought of anorexia creeping into your minds, I won’t let that fear dictate our conversation. We will work together to find healthier perspectives. Dieting will not be an option.
I promise that scales will have no place in our home. Your worth will never be dictated by a number you see in the morning.
Whenever I find myself feeling frustrated about my own body, wishing for a flatter stomach or slimmer arms, I will keep those thoughts to myself. You should never hear me speak negatively about myself.
One day, I will share my past with you—how my college experience was marred by malnutrition and suffering. I’ll show you photographs from a time when my hair was falling out and my skin tautly wrapped around my bones. I’ll share how my family feared for my life while I was in psychiatric care for girls with eating disorders, and I hope you will understand why I am compelled to protect you from a similar fate.
I promise that the anorexia that has haunted me for the last two decades will never be yours. I will fight this battle on my own, keeping it separate from you, because it is mine to bear, not yours.