Eating to Win Mom's Approval
By Lea Goldman
Photo Credit: Jesse Frohman
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Sunday brunches are the thing in my family. When I was a kid, my brothers, sisters, and I would roll out of bed on those mornings to find the dining-room table blanketed with all manner of breakfast goodies: smoked whitefish, sliced sable, golden cheeses, fresh bagels still warm to the touch. I stuffed myself with abandon at these feasts until I was about 12 or 13, at which point my pediatrician replaced the "chubby" descriptor on my medical charts with the clinically correct "overweight." After that, I couldn't reach for a plate at Sunday brunches without my mother gently grabbing my arm and chirping, "Look, Lea, I bought fat-free muffins." I'd resign myself to one of those crumbly, bland imitators, hoping to wow her with my willpower. "You're soooo good," she'd say, filling me up with pride.
Such is the curse of the chubby child: always hungry — for accolades and affection. During my plump teen years, my mother routinely nudged me to slim down. She enrolled me in Weight Watchers and offered me a buck for every pound lost. But instead of getting motivated, I felt under siege by the incessant swipes about my weight. Then it dawned on me: If she cringed every time I reached for a Twinkie, it stood to reason that she'd beam if I grabbed a celery stick instead. And just like that, I started faking a diet.
I made big shows of not eating — skipping my two-bowl breakfast at home, but making up for it at the vending machines in school. I highlighted and dog-eared a copy of the Scarsdale Diet I found in our basement and left it prominently positioned near my bed. I even declared myself a vegetarian, though I made regular, illicit trips to the fridge to sneak strips of corned beef.
In front of my mother, I ate whatever it took to earn her praise: baby carrots, fat-free yogurt, poached fish. And it made me, for a time, the center of her world. Some nights she'd prepare two dinners — a heavy, meaty one for my father and siblings, a leafy and light meal just for the two of us. On occasion she'd even invite me out for "a brisk walk." Sure, I dropped a size or two, but that was an unintended consequence of the main goal: finally winning Mom's approval.
I've long since moved out of my parents' house and shed much of the excess weight. Today I'm a three-mile-a-day jogger who enjoys the occasional slice of pizza without much remorse. Yet to this day, my mother punctuates her catch-up calls by asking how the diet is going. I play along, pretending that I've just gotten back from the gym or broiled some salmon. She'll commend me on my discipline, and for a few moments at least, we'll both feel satisfied. And when we hang up, I'll tack a note on the fridge reminding me to stash the Twinkies the next time she visits.
Did You Know? 66% of overweight teenage girls whose parents encouraged them to diet were still overweight five years later, compared with 44% of those whose parents didn't push dieting.
MOTHER KNOWS BEST...
She never met a food she couldn't fry and considered baked potatoes a vegetable. But not all of Mom's dietary dictums have gone the way of the Formica tabletop. Turns out, some of her fusty old rules reflected some common-sense nutritional wisdom, according to Dr. Linda Bacon (yes, Bacon), author of Health at Every Size: The Surprising Truth About Your Weight. Bacon also points out where Mom missed the mark — but take that up with her at your own risk.
Mom said: "Chew each bite 30 times before swallowing."
Why she's right: If you slow down, your body has more time to process the food and send signals to your brain when you've had enough. Also, the more time your food is exposed to your mouth's taste cells, the better it will taste (even Mom's mystery meatloaf).
Mom said: "Clean your plate."
Why she's wrong: You're a far better judge of when you should stop eating than your plate is. Besides, eating until you need to unzip your pants is a waste of food. And Mom wouldn't like that, now, would she?
Mom said: "Don't eat in front of the TV."
Why she's right: Up to 40 percent of your body's physical response to a meal occurs during the period when you see, smell, and taste it. If you're not paying attention, you'll not only metabolize it inefficiently (and get indigestion), but you'll also muddy your body's stop-eating cues. Just realized you hit the bottom of the Doritos bag during CSI? Exactly.
Mom said: "Use margarine."
Why she's wrong: The "fake butters" packaged in stick form are often loaded with trans fats, which increase your risk of heart disease. Use butter, but remember that a little goes a long way.
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