Super

Super
And for once I was SuperMom

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Love is a battlefield

So while living in Colorado Scott and I were watching a bunch of our friends go on a diet, one of these ones where you eat six small meals a day. We snickered as we witnessed the demise of their good intentions. We talked about longevity of a 'diet' and that we need to make daily choices rather than fit a food regimen. We jokingly devised our own 'diet:'
1. Don't eat anything with a cartoon character on the package.
2. Don't eat anything with more than two unpronounceable ingredients.
3. No monochromatic meals
4. Nothing that comes in it's own individually wrapped serving.
5. Nothing that needs to be put in a sleeve to be microwaved.
Looking at the tub of frosting that I treated myself to the other day, the only ingredient that was pronounceable in the whole list of ingredients was 'sugar.' I realized that in returning to the US I was going to have to start thinking about these things again. That I was going to have to start to taking action and thought into maintaining my weight and providing a healthy environment for my daughter. We're pretty good at being active but diet gets harder when everything has corn syrup and some kind of diglyceride in it.
Going back to the states I realize that there are so many cultural battles that I will have to fight. Here there are so many aspects of life that I don't understand and the battles are ones that I don't even know where to begin; corrupt government, crushing poverty, prevalent negative crushing attitudes towards women, etc. At home I know the battles; materialism, obesity, busy-ness, isolation from community, media, prevalent negative attitudes towards women. I know some ways to fight them and I know that I am going to have to get creative to make these battles last into victories. But I know and understand the context of America, I know how, I know what works. In Kenya I still have no clue.
Now being a mother complicated all these things. I have to raise a daughter in a country that tells her that being fat or even a little curvy will cause social pariah-hood. If she's built like me this is a battle that may continue all her life, unless, maybe, I can pave the way for her to feel beautiful no matter what. I have to show her the balance between health and happiness. I have to fight some of these battles for her, and others I cannot. Turns out that to love your child is a kind of battlefield...

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