When it comes to body image issues, it’s a common misconception that only women face them.
I have no recollection of my early childhood. Not a single memory exists because I was never a little girl. However, I do remember my grandfather affectionately calling me “Chubby,” and my father squeezing my pudgy toddler legs and referring to them as “hams.” Looking back at my childhood photos, I can’t help but wonder what my parents were feeding me, as I was quite the hefty child.
As I grew older, I was often reassured with phrases like, “It’s just baby fat; you’ll outgrow it.” But the truth was, I never did. While my friends sprouted taller and slimmer, I remained the same. At 10, my mother announced that we would be going on diets. When I asked why, she mentioned that my best friend had lost weight. From that moment, I learned to compare myself to others and internalized the idea that being bigger than my peers was somehow wrong.
Throughout my adolescence, this competitive nature regarding body image only intensified. Even the girls I envied weren’t immune to the pressure; we constantly discussed food and judged ourselves based on our eating habits. Our conversations centered around whether we were “good” or “bad” depending on our meals.
Even now, as an adult, my social media feeds are filled with women sharing “lean” recipes and promoting products aimed at shrinking waistlines. We subscribe to diet plans and fitness regimens, feeling pressured to maintain a “good body.” If you don’t have one, you better get one; if you do, you must keep it. This has become the norm for many women, and it feels exhausting.
That’s why I felt such relief when my first child was a boy. I struggled with the thought of raising a daughter with a healthy body image when I had never achieved it myself. My son, who inherited his father’s curly hair and dimples, also had my blue eyes and sturdy build, which I thought nothing of at the time. “He’ll be an athlete,” people said. “He’s big and strong!”
However, when my son turned 6, I noticed a shift. He started jogging at the park, imitating the adults around him. But soon, his jogging became a daily ritual, and he began asking about calorie counts and weighing himself every morning. His mood shifted based on the number on the scale—at just 6 years old. After some digging, I discovered that during gym class at school, he had been weighed and a classmate had called him fat.
I was taken aback. I never imagined that boys could struggle with body image issues. None of the men in my life seemed to be concerned about their appearances. My father would even joke about his own belly while poking fun at my mother’s cellulite.
Yet here I was, watching my beautiful son pinch his belly, searching for workout videos online, and fixating on numbers—his weight, calorie intake, and more. It broke my heart to see him grappling with the same insecurities I faced. My unresolved issues were now haunting him.
Our children often reflect the best and worst parts of ourselves. All my unresolved struggles would continue to resurface for both of us if I didn’t confront them. I realized I needed to be the parent I wished I had growing up.
I began by removing the scale from our home. No more daily weigh-ins; weight is a fluctuating measure that doesn’t truly represent health. As the one responsible for grocery shopping, I ensured our meals were filled with healthy vegetables and lean proteins. We made a conscious effort to limit sugar—an overwhelming task given the sugary snacks marketed to kids. Instead, we opted for snacks like cheese and nuts and stayed active through biking, skating, and playing outdoors.
My son became involved in sports, and our conversations shifted from weight loss to wellness. I now ask him, “How do you feel? Do you have enough energy? Are you strong? Can you run without getting tired?” These are the true markers of health, not the number on a scale.
It’s not a perfect journey, but it’s a start. There are days when I struggle to hold back from discussing diets and food around my children, especially when interacting with other women. All we can do is strive for progress, one day, one moment, and one choice at a time.
While I can’t control what others say to my son or the images he encounters, I can influence how I communicate with him and the values I instill. My voice will become his inner dialogue, shaping his perceptions. Being mindful of this is a significant part of the battle.
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In summary, body image issues are not confined to women; they can affect boys as well. As parents, we must be vigilant and proactive in shaping our children’s perceptions of health and self-worth, focusing on overall well-being rather than societal pressures.