Reaching up to put a glass away, I felt a small arm snake around my waist. ‘Chunky Monkey’ my tween daughter blurted, gleefully squishing a handful of flesh between her fingers. *Sharp intake of breath* Sadly, this isn’t my first drive-by fat shaming by her. Mine and her dad’s rounding, aging appearance is an endless source of amusement for her.
In the last few months, I’ve been subjected to ‘Cakey Price’, ‘Hambeast’, or short and to the point, ‘Chonk’. Her Dad has been called everything from ‘Baldy, baldy, fat boy’ to ‘John Thick’ (hinting at his likeness to a fuller-figured version of Keanu Reeves’ John Wick).
Raising the encounters with a friend, she told me about the time her 11-year-old daughter called her fat. Seeing her face aghast, her daughter merely doubled down, saying ‘well, you are though.’ Ouch. Another visceral kick to the fanny.
Clinically Obeast
By the time we reach adulthood, we’ve had ‘being kind’ drummed into us. We know to say the right thing when people point out their physical foibles. Politely pirouetting around weight issues with a categoric, lets-shut-this-shit-down-quick, ‘no you aren’t’. It’s what we’re primed to do. But children’s vocabulary is beautifully untamed. They are masters in the art of ‘say what you see’.
The thing is, even if said in innocence, I’m not ready for unabashed honesty about my appearance. This is my first turn at life too, and change is hard. As people and as parents, we’re constantly trying to navigate new versions of ourselves. The life browser is constantly, stubbornly refreshing; this is you as a child, as an adult, as a partner, as a new parent, an older parent, and so on. And while we might not focus on our body issues as often or as intently as when we are younger, they’re still on the to-do list. They’re just filed under ‘fuck it’.
What to Say When Your Child Calls You a Chonk
While inside I’m turning to mush, wildly triggered and want to ugly cry into next week, I know that responding negatively will do a few things:
1. Give my daughter access to my personal kryptonite which she can whip out and wave around whenever she fancies. In public. In private. For eternity.
2. Reinforce the power of personal insults and their effect on people
3. Highlight my total lack of body positivity, breeding similar insecurities in her (whoop-de-doo)
Also, I know my child’s colourful descriptors are uttered to conjure laughter rather than wound. I’m being roasted, minus the great frock and personal appearance fee. And while I’d love to embark on a self-discovery, diet, and wellness journey, sadly – between raising her, freelancing, and dealing with a wayward grandparent (another blog pending) - I’m not too flush with time to mend every issue right now. It’s me, I’m crunchy inside, but I’m trying.
Immediately after the last name calling, I sought solace in a hot bath and a Mumsnet post. There I found others reeling from ‘mum, why are you such a chubber?’ comments. Ignoring the ‘do something about it then’ posts, I found a response that fitted quite nicely.
‘Yes, I am rounder/wrinklier/crispier, I’m working on it, but it’s not nice to say so.’
Short. Succinct. It buys me time to crumble internally but not externally. I like it.
How do you cope with kiddo’s personal remarks about your appearance?
