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My mother has battled disordered eating throughout her adult life. Born in 1948, she grew up influenced by the beauty ideals of the 1960s — Twiggy, Jean Shrimpton, and the fashion magazines that glorified thinness. By the age of 12, she was already obsessed with being skinny. At 15, her dieting became extreme and unusual; for a period, her diet consisted solely of apricots and apricot brandy. As she ventured into show business in her 20s, where she worked as a singer and actress for over 40 years, her relationship with food deteriorated further. She was frequently cast in roles that demanded a slender physique, and she once told me, “Staying underweight for all those years in the business was part of the job.”
Her eating habits fluctuated wildly through her marriage and my upbringing as her only child. For years, she would eat just cottage cheese and orange marmalade, or dedicate an entire year to yogurt and pecan praline granola. Dinner often consisted of a bag of frozen mango, and her constant companions were coffee, Diet Coke, and sugar-free Red Bull. Recently, she has taken a liking to ginger kombucha.
While my mom and I have shared a close bond, our relationship has been strained by her eating disorder. As a teenager in the mid-2000s, I too became preoccupied with weight loss, influenced by the societal obsession with thinness that surrounded us. We spent countless hours watching shows like Project Runway and America’s Next Top Model, with my mom often purchasing tabloids that highlighted celebrities’ bodies with harsh critiques. I could see her unhealthy eating patterns — the fridge filled with whatever single item she was fixated on during that time, or the stacks of protein powder in her room. Though she never pressured me to lose weight, her attitudes towards food and body image deeply affected me.
I began obsessively monitoring my food intake around 14, counting calories and engaging in other compulsive behaviors. Unbeknownst to her, my mom’s praise for my weight loss — calling me her “little string bean” or “little model” — only reinforced my unhealthy relationship with food. Despite various influences, I recognized that my mother’s struggles played a significant role in shaping my own insecurities. I felt anger and pain, fearing that her issues would become mine as well. This dynamic created a distance between us, one that we eventually began to bridge when we both acknowledged the impact of her dieting habits.
Midway through my college years, we had a breakthrough conversation, speaking not just as mother and daughter but as two women facing similar battles. A year ago, at 72, she began seeing a nutritional therapist, a step I found both relieving and commendable. She eventually shared, “I’m loving being strong. And I’m loving eating breakfast, so we’ve gotten that far.” This gave me hope for my own journey, as we discussed the ups and downs of life — the joys of chatting with strangers at the grocery store or enjoying a scenic walk, alongside the struggles that still haunt us.
Though she has made strides, she stopped seeing her therapist a few months ago, expressing concern over her ongoing self-destructive tendencies. “I don’t think I’m motivated to do it for myself,” she confessed. “I’m motivated to do it to have a future with you. Because I love you so much.” While I deeply love her, I worry that unless she commits to change for herself, her progress may not endure. Nonetheless, I recognize the importance of the bond we’ve strengthened; she has become my ally in this journey, and I hers.
For more insights on this topic, check out this post on our other blog about the journey of home insemination. If you’re looking to explore artificial insemination, Make A Mom offers trusted resources. Additionally, the UCSF fertility treatment site provides excellent information on IVF options.
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In summary, my relationship with my mother has evolved from the shadows of her eating disorder to a place of mutual understanding and support. Our journey reflects the complexities of love and healing, demonstrating that while challenges may persist, we can still find strength together.