Why I Refuse to Pass My Eating Disorder to My Daughters

home insemination Kit

When I discovered I was expecting twin girls, my heart swelled with joy. We already had a wonderful almost-2-year-old son, and I had always dreamed of having twin daughters. In my childhood fantasies, I often told my mom that I might be a twin myself, just waiting for my other half to be found.

But alongside the excitement came a wave of anxiety. I had learned that girls with mothers who have eating disorders are significantly more likely to struggle with them too. While I have mostly overcome my battle with anorexia, the thought of potentially projecting my own food issues onto my daughters was terrifying.

I refuse to let that happen, so I’m making some heartfelt promises to you, my sweet girls.

Promises to My Daughters

I promise that when we look in the mirror together, I’ll be the one who points out if you have something stuck in your teeth or if your skirt is tucked into your underwear. Your weight? I won’t even notice it, and you won’t hear me comment on mine.

I promise that at dinner time, I’ll be present at the table—actually eating. I won’t fill my plate with only vegetables while loading yours with pasta. We’ll share meals, talk about food, and savor every bite. Food is not our enemy.

I promise to remind you that your bodies are capable of doing incredible things, and regardless of their shape, they will always be beautiful, healthy, and strong.

When we discuss other women, it will never be in a derogatory way. We’ll have sincere conversations about bodies, but hurtful words like “fat” or “disgusting” won’t be part of our vocabulary. I will never compare you to others, especially not to each other.

If someone says something negative about you, we won’t let their words define who you are. Those words are just that—words. I’ll comfort you when you’re upset, and while I may want to confront those who hurt you, I’ll respect your strength and resilience.

When life throws challenges my way and my instinct is to retreat into unhealthy habits, I’ll remind myself that the few pounds I might try to control will never be worth the potential pain I could inflict on you.

If you ever express a desire to diet, I’ll be there to talk it through. Inside, I might panic, fearing that anorexia has crept into your minds, but I won’t project that fear onto you. We’ll communicate openly and find solutions together—you won’t go on a diet.

I promise that scales will never have a place in our home. Your happiness and self-worth will never hinge on a number.

When I feel frustrated about my own body, whether it’s about my stomach, arms, or thighs, I won’t voice those feelings around you. You won’t hear me say things that could plant seeds of doubt in your minds.

Someday, I’ll share my past with you—the years I don’t remember because I was malnourished and struggling. I’ll show you photos from times when I was at my lowest, when my hair was thinning and my skin was stretched tight over my bones. I’ll tell you about my experiences in a psychiatric facility for girls with eating disorders and how my family feared for my life. I hope you understand why I can’t let the same fate befall you.

Finally, I promise that the anorexia that has haunted me for two decades will never be yours. I will carry it, fight it, and keep it away from you. It’s mine to deal with, not yours to inherit. I promise.