Admittedly, my theory was a little rose-tinted and Enid Blyton-esque. It was lashings of ginger beer and a world without bad stuff. In short, I figured your children see you simply as a mother. You know mothers, caring, loving, willing to gnaw off their extremities one by one if that would in any way enhance the life of their off-spring. Not a physical being of skin and bone (and fat) but more, well, perfect.
Sitting at the breakfast table with Finje and attempting dialogue at 7.00am, I sensed she was distracted. I had become somewhat animated (as much as one is able before midday) whilst describing the noble game of tennis. She was staring with curiosity at my upper arms. Then, without so much as a pre-warning she grabbed a handful of still wobbling bingo-wing flesh and innocently inquired,
"What's that mama?"My bingo wings are the bane of my life and whilst of course they cause me no physical pain, that flabby, fatty skin hanging down between my elbow and shoulder is quite often the deciding factor when is comes to the purchasing (or not) of short-sleeved tops. When I wave good-bye I do so with my elbow fixed to my side allowing only a stiff lower arm wave and therefore looking a bit like an extra on Holby City.
With my own personal disgust levels riding high, my immediate thought was to answer that it's fat. Adding perhaps that if she didn't want to experience such shame I would gladly buy her a gym membership for her 5th birthday. But would that be the right response? The thing is I'm not fat. If you discount my upper arm blubber that is.
I do admit to being more than a little nervous about raising a child who starts to worry about her weight before she's stopped believing in the tooth fairy. If I say it's fat, which let's be honest here it is, will that start a conversation I don't want to get in to just yet. Or actually, ever.
In the end I plumped (see what I did there?) for this, rather paltry answer,
"That's just part of mummy darling. We're all different and that's what makes the world such a wonderful place"
I braced myself for the inevitable onslaught of questions.....
"Oh okay, can I have another piece of toast?"
Not to worry then.
More:Is It Just Me?
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