Our heroine learned as a child what it is - not to eat enough and constantly think only about how to slam another piece. And all because her mother was obsessed with diets and tried to keep her daughter on them. What came out of this diet for children, how it affected the he alth of the girl and what conclusions she came to as a result - she will tell herself.
Throughout my childhood, from about the age of seven until I left to study, I watched my mother go on a diet. That meant I was also on a diet. While my brother and father ate whatever they wanted, my mother and I ate according to the prescription of the next diet. Half a grapefruit for breakfast, a diet shake for lunch, a small salad for dinner. A slice of fried bread for breakfast, a spoonful of salad for lunch, half a cup of rice with steamed vegetables for dinner.
As far as I remember these torments, so much I remember my mother's despair due to the fact that the weight does not go away, that the arrow on the scale of the scales did not budge. She tried all the diets, one after another, fell into euphoria because of every gram thrown off and despair when nothing worked. Diets for children have become part of my life and my personality, and it was not my choice.
Of course, as an unwitting participant in this pandemonium, I was not going to stick to her diet all the time. At home, I ate the same as she did (what do they say about the strength of families in which everyone eats the same?), But I had fun at school, did not miss the opportunity to have a bite to eat when she did not see and at night, when everyone fell asleep. I ate buns at work (when I worked at a bakery in high school), bought fast food, ate pizza and ice cream at friends' houses. I didn't lose an ounce and I didn't care. At least for the time being.
When I was 18 years old, I first went on a diet of my own free will. And by "diet" I mean fasting. I did not eat for three days and, to my own amazement, lost 4 and a half kilograms. I stayed on caffeinated drinks and ate a light salad for dinner. So it went day after day, week after week. When I was 22, I became seriously ill and lost 11 kilos in two weeks. I was weak and emaciated, but everyone kept saying how good I looked. Yes, I was finally able to fit into size 46 jeans, but for two months I could not walk a block without sitting down and resting. I realized that being slim and being he althy are not the same thing.
In my early twenties, I happily married and gave up my obsession with diets. I threw away the scales because they ruined my mood. Or worse, gave me a momentary sense of accomplishment in the morning that vanished immediately after breakfast. I've never been skinny, but I was thinner than I thought (or imagined) and the endless dieting weight gains took a toll on my metabolism.
A three-day fast no longer leads to weight loss - it only results in dizziness and mood swings. I read about portion control and “sadness eating” and realized that if I started paying attention to when my body is really hungry and when “I’m sad - shooting a cookie”, then I will stop overeating. I stopped worrying about the size of clothes and monitor my he alth more than weight. I started doing Pilates and, without planning to lose weight, lost 9 kilograms. I only wanted to strengthen my muscles and gain strength, but the transition from a sedentary lifestyle to an active lifestyle not only brought pleasure, but also made me lose weight.
I was determined to never diet again in my life. And then she got pregnant. During my first pregnancy, I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes and had to eat as prescribed again. Going on a low-carb diet was harder than any of my mother's diets, as it meant giving up some of my favorite foods - bread, fruit, pasta. After learning that my blood sugar was skyrocketing from a bowl of fruit salad, I sobbed, but I managed to stick to the diet throughout my pregnancy. The baby was born he althy, and a strict diet kept me from extra pounds, but immediately after giving birth, I quit the diet and returned to normal nutrition.
At the moment I am overweight, but the doctor says I am he althy. My blood count and pulse are normal, and I have two sons who keep me busy. I will never be thin and will never again fit into those size 46 jeans that I still keep in the back of the closet, but that's okay. I am he althy and I am happy. Alas, my mother has never been able to boast the same on any of the diets.