My daughter was a big baby. She was so big that when I opened my eyes in the recovery room of the hospital after giving birth normally to an 8-pound baby, the first thing I saw was the nurse carrying a huge bundle in her arms. I was shocked. She looked around 7 to 8 months old!
I am an insulin-dependent diabetic. I have been since I was a teen. They say that when women with my condition give birth, our babies are larger than usual. This baby was.
As she grew up, she wasn’t obese—not to me anyway. Just really big or big-boned as we can see now that she’s almost 12. She towers above her classmates at 5’2” but she is definitely overweight. She weighs approximately 170 pounds.
Let me just say: I don’t think it’s her fault she’s this big. I don’t think it’s my fault either. But I’ve had my share of really awful remarks such as, “Ang dagul ng anak mo (Your child is so huge)!”
I was tempted to reply something biting and insulting as well but decided to not waste time or saliva. My daughter didn’t hear her anyway.
On a good note, her teacher in pre-school called her a “gentle giant” because even if she towered over the other kids, she was never a bully or a brat. She always lent a hand to her smaller friends.
I’ve also had well-meaning friends and acquaintances stating the obvious: “Shouldn’t you put her on a diet? What if she gets diabetes?” (DUH. As if I don’t think about that a million times a day!)
For everyone’s info (though I don’t think it’s any of their business), she is on a perennial diet. She doesn’t sit in front of the TV all day, shoving chips and chocolate into her mouth like the stereotypical “fat” (I’m sorry for that politically incorrect word) kid in the movies.
She only has one bowl of brown or red rice per meal. She eats whole wheat bread, not white. Non-fat milk, skim milk, or soy meal is her baon drink in school while she has no-sugar-added juice on Fridays. We rarely fry our food. It’s either grilled, baked, or stewed. I buy her whole wheat crackers for snacks. Yes, I let her eat chips and sweets once in a while but not every day.
So no one needs to tell me to put her on a diet. You don’t know the amount of patience that I’ve had to exercise to be able to keep my cool and realize that perhaps these nosy people are simply concerned. I myself am concerned just looking at her. I want her to live a healthy and long life. She’s such a sweet and caring child that it pains me to think of anyone calling her names or of her ever becoming sick.
This year, her father and I made plans to get her into exercise. A few years back she did some Krav Maga. She also trained with a fitness trainer (my sister) for the Nat Geo run in 2013. During that time she was leaner and fit. A year ago it was Taekwondo. This year we hope to get her into some other physical activities because obviously its inactivity (and that bloody PS3 and laptop) that are contributing to her weight gain.
Yes, my daughter is overweight. But I don’t need you to tell me what to do about it, thanks.
Art by Dorothy Guya