“Mommy is Fat”

At 107 pounds, I am nowhere near fat.  I just tried on my wedding dress and it is looser on me now than when I wore it over 6 years ago.  I have gone from a size 6 to a size 2 in pants, and from a M to XS in dresses and shirts.

So, why is my daughter calling me fat?

Well…it’s because she heard me use the F word.  After a delicious meal I’d say, “Oh…I feel so fat.”  Or I might say things like, “I’m so fat in this.”

Raising children in a city like Las Vegas, where you are bombarded with billboards of strip clubs, pool parties on the Boulevard, bikini parades, and where most women pay $$$$ so they can look like Holly Madison isn’t like raising children in other cities.  Where body image is everything, and obesity is now a national epidemic, I feel like I need to take extra care of how I portray a beautiful body to my daughter.  Beauty isn’t about having a small waist or big bust.  Beauty is about being healthy.

I haven’t lost all that weight with any crazy diet or work out regime.  We’ve simply taken on a clean and healthy active life style.  I love food as much as the next person.  I’ve even been told that I eat like a man.  Give me a bacon cheese burger and fries, and I’ll clean my plate and wash it down with a beer.  Cutting out processed foods, refined sugars, family walks, and even goofy family dance parties to break a sweat are just an example of what I mean by a clean and healthy active lifestyle.

So, the next time my stomach is about to burst from a delicious meal, I’ll think twice before using the F word.

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The Food Fight

Tonight we ended dinner with another food fight.  Not the sort of food fight where you need to clean up the room with a mop and towels, but the kind where Marley goes to bed without dinner for the fourth night in a row.  I have about had it up to hear with these food fights.  If there is anyone out there with any bit of advice that might possibly help, please feel free to send it my way.

I have got to have the pickiest eater ever.  For a long time, all she would eat was broccoli and pasta.  Then she went through her Mac & Cheese, followed by spaghetti phases.  Intermittently I’ll get lucky and she’ll eat a little chicken.  Once or twice I’ve managed to trick her into eating beef by calling it “Daddy’s Red Chicken.”  Her favorite snacks are cucumber and mixed nuts.  If I let her, she’ll eat an entire pack of bacon.  Now, all she want is bread, the Hawaiian Sweet Rolls to be precise.  She went through a bag of those small rolls in three days.  She’ll have nothing to do with peanut butter.  She throws up every time she’s tried eggs.  I just don’t know what to do anymore.

Today, she had three squares of the Hawaiian sweet rolls, two baby carrots, a few pretzels at our potluck in the park, a handful of almonds, a third of a banana, two cups of milk, a cup of apple juice, and a few cups of water.

If I could only get her to try different foods, I know she’ll like them.  She won’t even look at it, let alone taste it.

I do have to be thankful for one thing though.  Even though she is a very picky eater.  I am glad that she eats healthy snacks instead of junk food or fast food.  Up until this summer, I could honestly say she’s never eaten anything from McDonald’s.  However, beyond my control, she ate a few McDonald’s french fries.  Although she may be picky, at least she will not grow up to be one of the 60% in her generation to suffer from obesity.

Tonight, I know she will be waking me up and telling me that her belly button hurts because she’s hungry.  I will probably let her drag me out of bed again to give her another piece of bread.  And tomorrow will be another day that ends in a food fight.