by Kasey Edwards

Dear Mum，

I was seven when I discovered that you were fat， ugly and horrible. Up until that point I had believed that you were beautiful—in every sense of the word. I remember flicking through old photo albums and staring at pictures of you standing on the deck of a boat. Your white strapless bathing suit looked so glamorous， just like a movie star.

But all of that changed when， one night， we were dressed up for a party and you said to me，“Look at you， so thin， beautiful and lovely. And look at me， fat， ugly and horrible.”

At first I didnt understand what you meant.

“Youre not fat，” I said earnestly and innocently， and you replied， “Yes I am， darling. Ive always been fat； even as a child.”

In the days that followed I had some painful 1）revelations that have shaped my whole life. I learned that：

1. You must be fat because mothers dont lie.

2. Fat is ugly and horrible.

3. When I grow up Ill look like you and therefore I will be fat， ugly and horrible too.

With every 2）grimace at your reflection in the mirror， every new wonder diet that was going to change your life， and every guilty spoon of “Oh-I-reallyshouldnt”， I learned that women must be thin to be valid and worthy. Girls must go without because their greatest contribution to the world is their physical beauty.

Just like you， I have spent my whole life feeling fat. When did fat become a feeling anyway？ And because I believed I was fat， I knew I was no good.

But now that I am older， and a mother myself， I know that blaming you for my body hatred is unhelpful and unfair. I now understand that you too are a product of a long and rich 3）lineage of women who were taught to loathe themselves.

Look at the example Nanna set for you. Despite being what could only be described as famine-victim 4）chic， she dieted every day of her life until the day she died at 79 years of age. She used to put on make-up to walk to the letterbox for fear that somebody might see her unpainted face.

I remember her “5）compassionate”response when you announced that Dad had left you for another woman. Her first comment was， “I dont understand why hed leave you. You look after yourself， you wear lipstick. Youre overweight—but not that much.”

Before Dad left， he provided no 6）balm for your body-image torment either.

“Jesus， Jan，” I overheard him say to you.“Its not that hard. Energy in versus energy out. If you want to lose weight you just have to eat less.”

That night at dinner I watched you 7）implement Dads “Energy In， Energy Out： Jesus， Jan， Just Eat Less” weight-loss cure. You served up chow mein for dinner. Everyone elses food was on a dinner plate except yours. You served your chow mein on a tiny bread-and-butter plate.

Silent tears streamed down your face. I said nothing. We all ate our dinner in silence. Nobody comforted you. Nobody told you to stop being ridiculous and get a proper plate. Nobody told you that you were already loved and already good enough. Your achievements and your worth—as a teacher of children with special needs and a devoted mother of three of your own—paled into insignificance when compared with the centimetres you couldnt lose from your waist.

It broke my heart to witness your despair and Im sorry that I didnt rush to your defence. Id already learned that it was your fault that you were fat. The lesson： you didnt deserve any food and you certainly didnt deserve any 8）sympathy.

But I was wrong， Mum. Now I understand what its like to grow up in a society that tells women that their beauty matters most， and at the same time defines a standard of beauty that is perpetually out of reach. I also know the pain of 9）internalising these messages. We have become our own jailors and we 10）inflict our own punishments for failing to measure up. No one is as cruel to us as we are to ourselves.

But this madness has to stop， Mum. It stops with you， it stops with me and it stops now. We deserve better—better than to have our days brought to ruin by thoughts of our “bad bodies，”wishing we were otherwise.

And its not just about you and me any more. Its also about Violet. Your granddaughter is only 3 and I do not want body hatred to take root inside her and strangle her happiness， her confidence and her potential. I dont want Violet to believe that her beauty is her most important asset； that it will define her worth in the world. When Violet looks to us to learn how to be a woman， we need to be the best role models we can. We need to show her with our words and our actions that women are good enough just the way they are. And for her to believe us， we need to believe it ourselves.

The older we get the more loved ones we lose to accidents and illness. Their passing is always tragic and far too soon. I sometimes think about what these friends—and the people who love them—wouldnt give for more time in a body that was healthy； a body that would allow them to live just a little longer. The size of that bodys thighs or the lines on its face wouldnt matter. It would be alive and therefore it would be perfect.

Your body is perfect too. It allows you to disarm a room with your smile and infect everyone with your laugh. It gives you arms to wrap around Violet and squeeze her until she giggles. Every moment we spend worrying about our physical “flaws” is a moment wasted， a precious slice of life that we will never get back.

Let us honour and respect our bodies for what they do instead of 11）despising them for how they appear. We can focus on living healthy and active lives， letting our weight fall where it may， while consigning our body hatred to the past where it belongs. When I looked at that photo of you in the white bathing suit all those years ago， my innocent young eyes saw the truth. I saw unconditional love， beauty and wisdom. I saw my Mum.

Love， Kasey xx

亲爱的妈妈：

当我发现您又肥又丑又难看的时候，我七岁。在此之前，我一直深信您很美——任何方面都是。我记得自己翻阅旧相册，定睛看着一张您站在船夹板上的照片。您穿着那白色无吊带泳衣看起来优雅无比，像极了电影明星。

但一天晚上，一切都改变了。那天，我们为一个派对盛装打扮，您对我说：“看看你，多苗条啊，漂亮又可爱。看看我，又肥又丑又难看。”

起初，我不明白您的话。

“您不肥，”我真心诚挚地说，但您却回答说：“我很肥，宝贝。我一直都很肥，就算是小时候也很肥。”

之后的日子里，我发现一些痛苦的“事实”，这一切影响了我整个人生。我明白到的“道理”如下：

1. 您一定是肥婆，因为当妈妈的是不会撒谎的。

2. 肥就是丑，就是难看的。

3. 当我长大以后，我看起来就会像您那样，所以我也会变得又肥又丑又难看。

从每一次您照镜子时的痛苦表情，每一种新的将要改变您人生的神奇节食方法，每一勺说着“噢，我真的不应该（吃）”并且满带罪恶感吃下的饭菜，我都明白到女性必须要纤瘦，那才是合情合理，有价值的。女孩子们必须习以为常，因为她们对这个世界最大的贡献就是其体态美。

就像您那样，我整整一辈子都觉得自己很肥。肥胖究竟什么时候变成了一种感觉了？因为我确信自己很胖，所以我知道自己一无是处。

但如今，我年纪大了些，自己也当上了妈妈，我明白到将我自己对身体的不满归咎于您是毫无帮助，也是不公平的。我现在明白，漫长世代以来，无数女性一直被灌输着自嫌自厌的概念，而您也只是其中一个产物。

看看奶奶给您树立的榜样吧。尽管“窈窕”如饥民，但她生命中的每一天都在节食，一直坚持到她79岁离世的那天。她连取信也得化了妆才出去，因为担心有人看到她那不施粉黛的脸。

当您宣告说爸爸为了其他女人而离您而去时，我记得她那“充满同情”的回答。她发表的第一个评论是：“我不明白他为什么要离开你。你会打扮，你涂口红。你胖——但也不算很严重。”

在爸爸离家之前，他也没有对您的体型之苦手下留情。

“天啊，简，”我无意中听到他对您说。“没那么难吧。热量摄取与消耗的平衡而已。要减肥，吃少点不就行了。”

那天吃晚饭的时候，我看到您实践起爸爸的减肥疗法来了：“平衡热量摄取与消耗：天啊，简，就吃少点吧”。您做了炒面作为晚饭。除了您，其他人的饭菜都盛在一个晚餐盘子上。您自己的那份炒面盛在一个很小的面包黄油碟子上。

无声的泪从您的脸上流了下来。我没有说话。我们所有人都无声地吃着自己的饭。没有人安慰您。没有人跟您说，别这么荒谬了，去换碟正经的饭菜吧。没有人告诉您，您已经很受人爱戴，已经做得够好的了。您的成就，您的价值——作为一位教育特殊儿童的老师和一个全心全意照顾三个子女的妈妈，这些与您无法从腰间减去的那几厘米相比，显得苍白失色，毫无意义。

看到您的绝望，我心碎不已，我很抱歉，我当时没有赶紧为您辩护。我那时以为，长得胖是您的错。其道理是：您不该有一点吃的，您当然也不应该获得任何的同情。

但我错了，妈妈。现在我明白到，成长在这样一个社会是怎样一番滋味：这个社会灌输给女性的观念是，她们的美才是最重要的，并且同时制定出一个几乎让人无法企及的“美”的标准。我也知道这些信息牢套于心的痛苦。我们将自己投入到囹圄之中，我们惩罚自己达不到标准。我们对待自己的残忍程度，无人能及。

但这种疯狂必须停止，妈妈。从您身上停止，从我身上停止，从现今起停止。我们值得拥有更好的生活——我们认为自己“体态不堪”，渴望有所不同，这种想法把我们的生活给毁了，我们应该过得更好。

而这不再仅仅是您和我的事情了。也关乎维奥莱特。您的外孙女只有三岁，我不想那种对身体的仇恨植根在她心中，扼杀了她的快乐、自信和潜能。我不想维奥莱特执著于美丽是她最重要的财富，执著于美丽将定义她在这个世界的价值。当维奥莱特参照我俩来学习如何成为一名女性时，我们需要成为最佳的楷模。我们需要以我们的言行来向她表明：女性忠于本色足矣。要她相信我们，我们就得先相信自己。

我们年纪越大，就会因意外或者疾病失去更多我们爱的人。他们的离世总是走得太急，让人悲痛。我有时候想，这些朋友以及爱他们的人，有什么是他们不愿意舍弃以换取更多时间活在健康的躯体内的？一个可以让他们活得稍稍长久一些的躯体。这个躯体里大腿的尺寸以及脸上的皱纹将不会显得重要。只要是鲜活的，那就是完美的。

您的身体也很完美。它让您以笑容缓解室内的紧张气氛，以笑声感染所有的人。它让您拥有环抱维奥莱特的双臂，可以把她紧紧抱住直至她哈哈大笑。每一刻我们对体形上的“瑕疵”表示担忧，那都是浪费时间，那是我们无法挽回的宝贵的生命碎片。

让我们为身体的“真我本色”致予尊重和敬意，而不是因为它们的形态对其肆意轻视。我们可以关注于过上健康而活跃的生活，让体重顺其自然地降下来，而把我们对身体的仇恨交托给逝去的过往。多年前，当我看着您穿着白色泳衣时的照片，我那双天真无邪的眼睛看出了真谛。我看到了无条件的爱、美和智慧。我看到了我的妈妈。

爱您的，凯西（亲亲您）