This is a giant shout-out to the two ladies who raised me and the troops pretty much single-handidly. Some people might think that if you have an eating disorder something traumatic must happened to you. Like, if you are that insecure then obviously you are a victim of child-abuse. Just sayin' here, that so isn't the case. Yes, we all have had our share of suffering, and yes some horrible things do go on in this world that we just have to deal with, but I firmly believe those things make us stronger and more empathetic. Case closed.
Mama and Lama were the ones who tucked us in at night, made millions of PB+J sandwiches on white (no crust), and sat on a bench and watched over us protectively as we played at the park. They braided hair and sewed us matching outfits (haha) and came to our school plays and watched endless Disney movies on Friday nights. They stayed up late on Christmas eve to make sure we were convinced St. Nicholas had come. They gave up holidays to take us camping and saved their pennies to buy us a bike for our 10th birthdays. They got to know our friends and treated them with respect. They gave us their change so we could go to K-Mart and buy Polly Pockets and Hot Wheels, they washed our clothes and made sure there were no germs in the bathroom. Mama and Lama picked us up when we fell, put band aids on our knees, and hugged us till the pain went away. They played house. They cut out baby dolls from cardboard and gave us their Mother's Day chocolate. They bought us gifts on each others birthdays so we would feel special, too. They wrote out heartfelt cards to their babies who had absolutely no reading comprehension, just so one day we might look back at those cards and smile. They gave us nicknames and helped shape our personalities. They paid for braces and choir fees and piano lessons and hot lunches. They allowed us to pick out our own clothes (albeit rolling their eyes). They supported our dreams and wishes and hopes and fears. And you know I am not just talkin' about my Mama and Lama, here, right? You know I am talkin' about yours, too. Or perhaps it is your Papa, or Granddad or Auntie or Uncle.
I wanted to acknowledge my parents today, the women who raised me. It probably kills them to know I struggled with something so badly for so long, and I am deeply sorry if they feel any blame. It is completely the opposite. They have done nothing but make me a stronger, healthier, more beautiful person. I am their kin. I am their daughter. And one day, should God bless me with a tiny baby girl of my own, I will love her through her issues, too. Just like Mama and Lama have done for me.
