My, what a bonnie
child I am! At the age of 41 I am still surely making my Mother proud by following the above average line for my weight
gain. I just know when I go to visit her
next that she will proudly take me out to visit all her friends, parade me
around, and be the envy of all. Surely
they will see what a great Mother she is by observing my impressive gains!
Recently whilst I
was rummaging around for undies and preparing to dress my extremely impressive
body, I had a breath-taking and slightly comical experience. As I grabbed the undies and shook them out,
they unfurled like a ship’s sail, and I stood there in a shocked ‘Shallow Hal’ moment. Though incredibly familiar, quite shabby
actually, I was caught off guard by their stretched and saggy size. Were these truly mine? I knew they were; but I felt a mixture of
horror and humour at just how big they looked.
It was like I was seeing them for the first time and I didn’t like what
I saw.
While I tucked my
tummy snugly into the shabby yet accommodating cotton under clothing, my mind traveled down delightful avenues. What
if being 'bonnie' carried on past the baby stage?
At what age did being chubby switch from being a badge of good health
that people delighted in, to something to be ashamed about? When did Mum’s friends go from saying things
like ‘look at her little chubby hands she’s just lovely’ to ‘have you seen her
daughter, she’s quite big...’, followed by raised eyebrows and a lingering look
of disappointment.
I kept travelling
down the path and imagined that my weight was still of great pride to my Mother, and how impressed her friends would be.
Mum would meet me at the airport and throw herself at me in
delight. She’d kiss both of my chubby
rosy cheeks and exclaim happily ‘look at you, you’ve gained weight, you’re such
a clever wee thing, you always were a good eater’. I’d beam my cute smile at her with my cheeks
so chubby they look like they’ll burst.
Mum will look around her proudly, observing the other Mum’s and Dad’s
that wish they could have such a 'bonnie' daughter.
We’d go and meet
Mum’s friends and their kids from our playgroup days. I’d be the delight of the meet-up. ‘Look at Pam’s daughter, isn’t she chubby,
just glowing with good health, gosh Pam is such a good Mother, she must be so proud’. The Mum’s with the thin kids would feel ashamed
of themselves for their unhealthy, emaciated children, and encourage them to
eat some more afternoon tea which they are just picking at. They’d be trying not to appear jealous as
they watch me tucking in ravenously out of the corner of their eyes. Inside they’re boiling with jealousy and
thinking what a bitch Mum is for rubbing their faces in her success.
As the meet up gets
more intimate and friendly and everyone finds my chubby, cheek splitting smile
utterly adorable, the thin kid’s parents try and talk up their kids stunning achievements
and amazing personalities. No-one’s
listening because they’re all transfixed on my Mum, who’s attentively wiping
food from my double chin while gazing adoringly at me. They are all waiting for
the moment when they can squeeze my thigh rolls and watch me giggle with
delight. Mum will tell them I always was
a good eater, never fussy and I just eat anything she puts in front of me. The thin kids Mums will all look at each
other and roll their eyes spitefully because deep down they know- they’ve
failed to raise a healthy, fat, bonnie child...
I'm dressed now and ready to hit the day, self esteem high...
