On Friday afternoon we typically take a trip to what my daughter calls the “doughnut store.” It’s a special tradition that was established one Friday afternoon a few weeks ago, as a means of celebrating the end of the week and the welcoming of Shabbat.
Recently, on the way home from one of our visits, frosting covering her chin, my daughter looked at me and told me that she is “a grown-up!” As an avid lover of Peter Pan and someone who is perpetually connected to her inner child, I gulped. “What makes you a grown-up?” I asked her. “Eating doughnuts!” she exclaimed.
My 3-year-old daughter knows that I have a special place in my heart for doughnuts, as one of my favorite foods. When we play with her kitchen set she tends to offer me lots of options before finally settling, with a huge smile, for the pink frosted toy doughnut, knowing that I’ll respond in an excited tone that I would absolutely love a doughnut!
And so in her mind, being grown-up is associated with this food because I’m a grown-up and she sees me eat doughnuts, and therefore she feels very mature when she does so as well.
Our children have more eyes and ears than we realize—they absorb every detail, whether or not they express these observations. Too often I have worked with a client reporting that they were given freedom around food in the home—all types of snacks were offered; nothing was off limits. And yet, this same individual will report that while the children in the home were given the message that all foods were OK, this was not the case for the parents. The kids could go and have any snack they desired, but the parents would limit themselves. At times these parents would comment negatively about their own bodies, or label foods as off-limits for themselves. This person recalls hearing other adults discussing diets and gloating about how much weight they lost.
This person then believed that in childhood, all food is OK. But as an adult, absolutely not.
When we grow up, we must be sure to remain looking like children, limiting ourselves, exercising, having certain foods off-limits, creating rules about what is approved and what is not. This is the message that was absorbed by a young child, who only wanted to be like her parents when she grew up and therefore—consciously or subconsciously—decided that as she grew up, she would emulate her parents and also restrict herself.
So begins the learned behaviors that cause the perpetuation of diet culture, of the fusion between body image and self-worth, of the rules and behaviors like restriction, bingeing, and compensatory actions.
One of the greatest gifts we can give our children, friends, family and ourselves is to model behavior that promotes self-respect. It is not simply about going out and buying the doughnut for our kids. It is about buying the doughnut with our kids. Showing our children that worth and self-acceptance are not tied to food or size. That growing up does not mean we need to limit ourselves; growing up means that our opportunities and possibilities are endless. Growing up means choice and expansion, not rigidity and shrinking. When we model permission around food and intuitive eating, then we teach the separation between who we are and what we look like. We break down the harmful messages that state that what we eat and how we look define who we are.
Please, be mindful of what you say. It is not simply about how you discuss food with your children or others. It is about how you approach food yourself. Take a moment, reflect on what you do and say that could send the message that certain bodies or foods are better than others. Consider how this might impact a child, this idea that one is “good” if he or she eats certain foods, and “bad” if he or she chooses other foods.
I’d recommend you eat the doughnut. Heck, maybe I’ll see you at the doughnut store in Teaneck on Fridays, enjoying one for yourself. And if you are not there yet, then at least consider how you discuss doughnuts with your kid. When they ask why you aren’t having one, don’t judge the food or make a joke about size.
Our children are listening. And our inner children are listening. I hope that as my daughter grows up she knows that she can have a doughnut—or any food—regardless of her age or shape. Because food is simply food, and she and I are both so much more than our bodies or food choices.
Temimah Zucker, LCSW, works with individuals ages 18 and older in New York and New Jersey who are struggling with mental health concerns, and specializes in working with those looking to heal their relationships between their bodies and souls. Temimah is an adjunct professor at the Wurzweiler School of Social Work, an advocate and public speaker concerning eating disorder awareness and a Metro-New York supervisor at Monte Nido. To learn more or to reach her, please visit www.temimah.com
