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Like on FacebookI wanted to go to ballet lessons like my older sister had but my mother, the former professional ballerina, said “you don’t have a ballerinas’ body.” I went to gymnastics lessons for one semester before she said I wasn’t graceful enough on the balance beam and refused to pay for the next semester’s lessons. I was six years old.
When I was invited to my father’s second wedding she said “if you go, it will kill me.” I barely spoke to him for fifteen years. I was 23 years old the next time I called him. We went to dinner, we went to a bar and drank beer together. We have the same eyes. For the first time I realised what I had really missed out on, I realised how similar we were, I realised how much easier my teenage years might have been if I had known him then.
After dinner I cut a piece of chocolate cake and my mother said “do you really need that?” In my bedroom I talked about school with my best friend, who was a skinny girl from a family full of skinny people, and my mother walked in and told my friend she should teach me how to exercise. I was nine years old.
I sat in the car next to her on a cold morning and asked if she thought I was pretty. She concentrated on the road and told me that she didn’t think any parent thinks their child is unattractive. I asked again, I pushed the point and my mother said “I wouldn’t call your face pretty, but I think you’re pleasant looking.” I told her that I wanted to be a writer when I grew up and she said “you won’t make a living as a writer.” I was twelve.
Running at 5am in the pouring rain, skipping classes to go to the gym, living on cigarettes and lettuce leaves. I was always cold, my hip bones dug into the bed if I lay on my stomach, counting my own ribs. I fainted while waiting for the bus and fell face first onto the concrete, my face covered in blood and a cut that would turn into a scar that is still noticeable ten years later. I was fifteen years old and my mother said “if you lost two more kilograms you would look great.”
And my mother said “big Bertha” and “boys don’t want a fat girlfriend, he only likes you because he thinks you’re easy” and “you don’t have the body to wear something like that” and my mother said “slut.” I was seventeen. When I was nineteen I invited her to come and visit my new house, to see where I lived. She never came.
At 22 years old I stood in her living room for the last time and told her about how she had made me feel for all those years. I told her that I was moving on with my life. I left. A week later she sent me an email denying it all and telling me I was going to be cut out of the inheritance when she died. I didn’t reply.
at 12:38 pm
I am so sorry you had to go through this. I can really relate. Your writing is beautiful; this post made me cry.
at 12:38 pm
<3
at 1:04 pm
this post is so relevant to my childhood. you’re an amazing lady.
at 1:04 pm
I am so sorry she put you through that. I feel like the worst part of having dysfunctional parents is when they deny what they put you through. We lived it, these were our lives too, not just theirs, and they cannot deny something that is now a part of who we are just because they don’t want to see the truth about themselves.
I didn’t know why you’d been estranged from your father, and I’m glad you’re in each other’s lives again.
at 3:12 pm
Ugh yes. This, too.
at 1:07 pm
I’m glad you ended up telling her and choosing to move on. Hopefully deep down she knows her behaviour was wrong. FYI you turned out super awesome!
at 1:21 pm
I wish I could share my lovely Mum with you.
You’re an awesome lady for being so brave. I love Fat Aus. Keep writing!
at 1:36 pm
That was incredibly brave of you. It can be hard for mothers – for anyone – to be able to cope with really seeing themselves when faced with truths like that, so they turn to denial. But I’m sure you know. I can relate. I’m so sorry. x
at 2:00 pm
Bless you.
at 2:10 pm
…and look at what she’s missing out on now you amazing thing
xo much love sweet lady
at 3:11 pm
This is a very powerful piece of writing. I am sorry, but also amazed, because you are an amazing woman, and to realize you’ve come out of such muck is shocking to me. You are nothing like this woman and you never will be, and I am amazed by that.
I have come very close to cutting my father out of my life multiple times, so I understand this, to a degree. Our situations are not the same, but I know the continuous sense of abandonment and lifelong grief one feels when a parent is incapable of loving in any kind of nurturing or meaningful way. I am sorry that you have to experience this too.
I am glad and thankful to know you.
at 4:03 pm
I love you, Pussywillow. <3 xoxo
at 4:05 pm
I am so sorry for the things you’ve been thru. I am so proud of your texts, your beautiful body and your inner strength.
I am reliefed that I don’t hate my mom anymore although she said almost the same things for me. Time helps, maybe for you too. If not, you’re still a wonderful woman without her.
at 6:55 pm
I used to consider my mother pushy when I was growing up, in terms of dieting, playing sports, and being critical of what I ate. But she was still loving. I’m so sorry that your mum couldn’t see what a wonderful beautiful person you are. I find it hard coming from such a loving family that anyone could be that cruel and uncaring to their own child. I’m so sorry and feel almost guilty for having my two parents that love me (it wasn’t always easy or supportive but they have my back).
You and your blog have helped me to find my confidence. I’m so inspired by the fact that you have been able to deal with this. Thank you for writing this blog.
Fuck flattering, fuck body haters.
at 6:55 pm
Relating, crying a little. You’re one of the most badass bloggers I follow, and I’m sorry you had to go through all of this. Thanks for being here, and surviving all this x
at 8:05 pm
Powerful piece. Sorry for your pain & suffering. You are not alone:
http://amazingwomenrock.com/sacrilege-on-the-sacrosanct-sharing-mixed-feelings-on-mother-s-day
I recently began eye-opening and deeply healing psychotherapy focused on how inter-generational issues play a defining role in family dynamics. It’s helping me a great deal.
I hope you find the peace, love, appreciation and healing that you and all of us deserve.
Love to you from Canada <3 <3 <3
at 1:03 am
To this day, tiny=worthy in my family, and I am almost 40 yrs old with a teenage daughter. I got this kind of shit you dealt with from both my mom and dad, and I don’t think it hurt any more or less from either one. The only two times in my life when my parents said they were proud of me are the two times I lost a large amount of weight(which resulted in an eating disorder that I deal with still today). Not when I graduated school, got accepted to college, got married, got a “real” job, or even now as I raise two great children, who often receive academic awards and are excellent students.
This piece hurt. Thank you for sharing it-I know it can’t be easy. You are strong, beautiful, and brave. If my daughter grows up to be happy, confident, smart, and believes in herself-what more could a parent want?
at 1:40 am
Long time reader, first time commenting
I was thinking today, I can’t even remember how I found your blog. But I’ve always enjoyed it and have always felt that there was a strength of character that came through clearly. Even though your posts haven’t been particularly personally revealing. Until now…. Beautifully written and so emotive. Thank you for sharing this. I’m so glad for you that you found the clarity and strength to step away from those strong conventions that say family is family, to stand in your strength and demand more for yourself.
I just wanted to say something like that (but it sounded better in my head). I guess also just speak up and let you know how much I enjoy this particular form of your expression (this blog). I enjoy listening to what you have to say, and I value your work.
x
at 5:01 am
great writing. thanks for sharing.
at 5:04 am
You’re such an amazing, beautiful, strong woman which is saying something because if I had been through what you have I doubt I would be half as strong or positive as you are. It’s terrible that your mother consistenly conditioned you to base your self-worth so heavily on your physical appearance.
My mother is a healthy, big woman. She has 3 sisters, one with the same build as her, the other two skinny. Her mother, my grandmother, is a vain, thin woman who always comments on people’s weight. She can’t describe anyone without referencing their weight and says things such as ‘ she’s a cheery, big girl’ or ‘what a lovely, slim thing that girl is’. Once we went to a party, my grandmother, my mother and my other big Aunty and myself and on more than one occassion my grandmother informed party-goers: ‘I have two skinny ones at home.’ I was completely gobsmacked and felt awful for my poor Mum and Aunt who were naturally embarrassed. Everyone just thought she was a vain old bitch.
The moral of this long-winded story is that maybe because my mother went through this herself, as awful as it must have been for her growing up, she knew not to ever let her own children think that their physical appearance had any bearing on their self-worth. So there is a real silver lining to your story. Because you have had this experience, as harmful and unnecessary as it was, you are in the perfect position to spread the word that fat or skinny or inbetween the worth of a person lies in their personality, their values, their integrity and not in the arbitrary numbers that appear when one steps on the scales. And it seems like you are doing a perfect job of spreading this message and empowering women to love their bodies. And I want to thank you so much for doing it.
at 6:43 am
You’re actually very pretty..and families can be toxic. Letting go of them can be very hard.
at 8:34 am
You ARE a writer. You proved your mother wrong. What a strong post. I think you will definitely have feminist genius children if you decide to. <3
at 11:53 am
I’m so sorry you had to go through that, it’s so hard to have someone in your life who is supposed to love you unconditionally to put their insecurities on you when you are so young and then deny the impact they’ve had when they are confronted with it. I lived in a similar situation which also ended with an email full of denial from my Dad, who I no longer speak to either. But at least we can both say that we have lived through it, grown through it, and know that the way we will treat the ones that we love will be different. And hopefully you sharing your story can inspire someone to speak to their loved ones with love and acceptance.
xx
at 12:58 pm
Holy, Bronny. This is so powerful. I’m sorry your mother made you feel this way for all these years. I can relate, especially with my own grandmother.
at 1:35 pm
GREAT writer. GREAT style. GREAT attituide and GREAT face. I’m so glad and grateful that you find a way to show your confidence in yourself, despite the pressure of a less than understanding mother. There is power and inspiration in what you do with your blog.
at 2:32 pm
you are one strong amazing woman.
at 6:09 pm
You are awesome. amazing post, and thankyou for being so open and honest with your life.
I went through similar crap with my dad and while it’s better now (I don’t see him often though), it’s the hurtful words/actions that never leave you.
at 12:07 am
joke’s on your mom because you turned out awesome >:)
at 12:49 pm
thanks for sharing of the deepest feelings i ve ever read on a blog…
at 2:14 pm
I’m sorry you’ve had to go through all that.
I’m in my mid-30s and single. I’ve been fat all my life. I will always remember that when I was 8, my mother fed me my first diet pill. It was called FibreTrim and it was meant to fill me up and stop me from eating. It tasted like cardboard (and it might as well have been). I was miserable for a long time and I just kept getting fatter because I ate to comfort myself. The more I was ashamed of it, the more I ate secretly and lied about food a lot.
I am still fat but these days, I am at peace with myself. I don’t think I’ll ever be thin but I’ve been striving to be healthier regardless of what size I am. I don’t deny myself of food I want but I also found some activities that help me exercise whilst having fun.
I don’t hate my mother but I can’t live with her. It’s difficult because while I respect that she has a right to her own standards, she doesn’t understand that I am entitled to my own way of life.
I hope you’re ok now and you find strength within yourself.
We come in all shapes and sizes. It’s okay. You’re beautiful
at 3:01 am
Heartbreaking. <3 You are very strong.
at 10:05 am
I wish I had known you back then, you could have ran away lived with me and Ollie.
at 8:25 am
Oh god that is horrendous. She clearly had ‘issues’. You poor love – but you’ve transcended it all. More power to you.
at 2:19 pm
Not much I can say that hasn’t already been said – but Bronny – you are awesome, this post brought tears to my eyes. Please never stop writing. xoxox
at 11:57 pm
Thank you. You are wonderful.
at 6:17 pm
This is truly heartbreaking.
I’m so sorry that you had to go through all of this, and I have so much respect for you because you turned out to be an amazing woman despite of all the horrible things your mother said.
Thanks so much for sharing this, you’re amazing.
at 8:53 pm
You are a strong woman. You can (and have) show her wrong.
I look forward to your future in writing. You’re already amazing.
at 11:36 pm
Oh Bronny, this gave me tears. I always think it’s awfully sad when a person cuts a family member out of their life but in this case, for your own mental wellbeing, you obviously had to. I’m so sorry you had to go through all this and I hope that you can heal. Know that you are amazing and beautiful. Your mother is seriously missing out by not having you in her life. Much love xo
at 12:58 am
Hi Bronny,
You are an amazing writer. That piece was beautiful and sad, and I related to it completely. My mother was not exactly the same as yours, but I think a lot of us heavy girls of thin mothers face the undermining comments, the forced diets, the urges to exercise, and most of all have to cope with never hearing that we are pretty. Ever. EVER. I had no idea I was a pretty girl (fat and pretty, YES, many of us, especially you, are BOTH these things) until my mid 20s. I’ve had to create distance between myself and my mother, although she and I can still see each other (I’d say I faced a much less extreme case than you did) but I’m glad we both survived and that we CAN heal from that. If I ever have a little girl, I don’t care if she is bald with a mustache and a goiter, I’m telling her she us beautiful every day of her life.
at 6:01 pm
You are an awesome writer. You did the best thing for yourself by cutting her out. At 41, I wondered why my mother had nothing but bile for anything I loved or accomplished and I spent years seeking her rare (and conditional) approval. If I told her of good things in my life, I got the silent treatment and a list of chores to do in her home. When her friends liked me, she was so angry. The final straw came when she shoved me away from her in the kitchen as I was helping her.
I am still trying to forgive her, not that it means I want to ever see her again. I don’t want to.
It has been five years now and every Christmas and birthday she still sends a flimsy cheque for fifty bucks. This last birthday I received a card which said ‘happy 45th (crossed out and 46th written on top) with the requisite insulting cheque. I sent her a card in turn telling her to please divert any further fiscal gifts to the charity of her choice. I suggested NAPCAN, ASCA or MDSA.
She hated attractive women, especially slim ones. She was nasty to me from when I was born but it was my burgeoning womanhood which threatened her and her hatred for me spiraled out of control. It didn’t stop her from making me string bikinis, letting me wear them and then telling me I was nothing but a slut.
It was when I was 40 that I confronted her about her bilious attitude toward me and she denied all of it, throwing ill-health in for good measure. Sickness has been her way of getting attention for as long as I have known her.
I don’t want her filthy lucre. It comes with conditions eg “Please love me!” and she can stick it where the sun don’t shine.
I want to be happy by the time I am fifty which is three years away.
PS. When I was 39, an acquaintance asked her what it was like to have such a late baby, after asking which college I went to. (I look very young for my age. She looks very old and neglected.) The hostility was palpable but I got the revenge I needed by default.
at 8:48 am
This post is the greatest in so many ways. It’s amazing how much you’ve recovered from your issues, and it saddens me how people can be so cruel. I will always find it very unnecessary to behave like that, but you are strong and this IS her loss, not yours.
My own mother was never like that to me, but my ex-boyfriends mother was EXACTLY like that. She’d get her kicks out of telling me how pretty I’d be if I lost all that extra weight and how ugly I was and she was perfect. Everything that was wrong in my then-boyfriends life was my fault. I cut her out of my life after a bad self-injury episode two years ago, and I’ve never looked back. She is a very ill woman which explains her behaviour, but that will never excuse her. I could go on and on about the interesting little things I noticed about her and how her head works (I find it amusing), but I’ll leave it at that. Removing myself from the negative people in my life, whether it be physically or mentally, is something I’ve found to be essential for me.
at 10:41 pm
thanks for being so honest with your readers. its amazing. most bloggers tend to idealize their lives, which puts me off. yours is great! xo (i remember you from hole.com
)
at 4:40 pm
Reading this made me so sad, mainly because of the familiarity of the situation. I just wanted to say I’ve dealt with a mother who has a ton of her own self hate on her shoulders, which when I was younger she pushed onto mine in the form of fat hate. I am a size 18 now and I am still struggling to accept myself as my mother taught me not to. Much love to you for sharing, shame on our mothers for not protecting us from themselves.
at 12:39 pm
You are incredible and I love your written pieces!