Me and my mom never really got along when I was a child, or when I was a teenager. Actually, we only started getting along recently. It could have to do with the fact that I was a very needy child and she was left alone raising a one week old and a beautiful crazy two year old (me) when she was just 25. I mean, I’m stressed out at 25 just thinking about what kind of shoes to wear, who knew what she was going through.
I remember when I was eight, I weighed eighty pounds. My mom fought so hard not to get me to hit that 100 pounds mark, right now I would KILL to weigh 100 pounds. She took me to nutritionists, and Weight Watchers, and took me to see psycho brain therapists, once I hit that 100 pounds, it all went downhill. I think she thought that she was failing as a parent when she saw me gaining so much weight so quickly, but she shouldn’t have blamed herself, I just liked food. It wasn’t her fault, and she did the best she could.
I know that no matter how many times my mom told me to stop eating that cookie, or no matter how fat she said I was getting, she only said it because she loved me. No matter how many times we fought, or whatever mean things we said to each other, she was always there for me, and still is always there for me. I guess why she called me fat my whole life was because she didn’t know what to say to a fat kid, and didn’t know how to face reality that one of her children was becoming morbidly obese before her very eyes. If you tell a fat kid to stop eating, they’re going to eat- so I ate…a lot.
Mom, I love you. You are the best mother AND father anyone could ever ask for. You sacrificed everything for me and Duffy. Even though there are times we all fight, and we say mean things, you are my best friend and my inspiration.
FYI: For all you haters, my mom and I became best friends in 2010 when I moved out, not when I got skinny (er).