I’ve been reading Teenage Waistland, which is part memoir and part a guide for parents of fat kids on what not to do. Except it seems anything a parent does is a don’t when it comes to a child’s weight. The author, who doesn’t have kids of her own, isn’t very gracious when she comes to analyzing the role parents have in a child’s weight.

Still the issues addressed in this book are part of what started me writing about weight and being a fat man’s daughter in the first place.  How do I talk to my children about weight? How can I teach them about healthy portions without knowing healthy portions? How can I discuss being concerned about weight without making them overly concerned about weight?

Is my obsession with exploring this issue going to drive my own children into anorexia, bulimia or obesity?

Or will someone else’s thoughtless comment going to do it for me?

I’m 36 years old, and I still remember a trip to Houston to visit my sister and her husband. My sister had cable and more importantly she had MTV. I was a teenager surrounded by toddlers and adults and a television that offered music videos and more channels than I had seen in my life. I spent some quality time sitting on their couch watching my very first videos. This prompted her husband to make a comment about my weight. It was probably 20 years ago, and I still remember how embarrassed I felt. It was the first time someone had ever commented on my weight. And I was not fat. I wasn’t even close, but I remember the hot cheeks and shame that I felt with his words.

Last Sunday was Easter, and we were all sitting around the table. Dinner was over, and we were playing cards. My oldest daughter was sitting across from me, next to her aunt. Her aunt is obese. She is almost as wide as she is tall. She needs surgery on her knee, but she can’t have it until she loses weight. She doesn’t look like she’s lost any weight lately.

Sitting next to me is my father-in-law. My daughter grabs something to snack on, and my father-in-law made a comment. I don’t remember what my daughter was eating or father-in-law said. I just know it was a comment about my daughter’s weight, as if her weight was a problem.  I think the same thing prompted my father-in-law that prompted my brother-in-law so many years before — someone very obese was in the house and the comment was meant as a preventative measure. But 20 years have gone by, and I didn’t hesitate as I smacked my father-in-law on the arm and let him know that his comment was not appropriate. I’m not sure if my daughter heard him, a comment my mother-in-law made, and I’m not completely sure my father-in-law understood my objection. I’m not sure I did either.

I was horrified his comment was heard by my daughter and would be internalized when it shouldn’t be. I was horrified his comment was heard by my sister-in-law and would sting with pain and truth. I was hurt that people’s words can be so painful.

The other day my daughter was ill, and I picked her up from school. I was on my way to a job, and she came with me. While she waited for me, she bought four candy bars from the vending machine. Two for her and two for me. I didn’t know about the third and fourth one. I ate part of the first candy bar she offered me. I declined the second one. IN less than two hours, my daughter had eaten all of the candy.

As we drove home, I talked about it. I didn’t say it was wrong. I talked about it in terms of calories and portions and eating habits. I noted it wasn’t something you should do frequently. And I had her read the calories on the wrapper, and I mentioned how many calories a typical day should include. I tried not to make her feel bad. I emphasized she isn’t overweight. I don’t want to make her obsessed, but I do want her to know things I didn’t know about portions and exercise.

I was not an overweight child. I was thin most of my life. I didn’t have a weight problem until I became pregnant. I was pregnant and/or breastfeeding for seven years. I lost the weight, and I took a job that left me little time to exercise. I gained weight. I gained the most weight in 2006. I’ve since lost it, but I am still overweight/obese.

Monday, my husband and I talked to an insurance guy about life insurance. The insurance guy didn’t hesitate to ask my husband his weight. He hesitated before he asked me, but I didn’t hesitate to answer. “I’m obese,” I said. And here I fudged my height, saying, “I’m 5′8 and 211.” I actually hover somewhere between 5′7 and 5′8, but I hadn’t fudged on saying I was obese or my weight, so I will let the fraction of an inch slide for the moment.

The next day, my husband and I were talking about the insurance. He shakes his head as he recalls my response. “Obese,” he said. His head shaking from side to side in denial. I’m not obese, he thinks.

I am. I want my children to know what a healthy weight is and what a normal weight body looks like. My children are in the normal range. The oldest weighs more than her great-grandma did at the great-grandma’s wedding. I know this because the great-grandma told me so when she learned how much my daughter weighs. My daughter is also several inches taller than hr great-grandma, and her weight and height fall in the middle of the “normal” range on the BMI scale – 21.6.

What does it say about me that I’ve checked?