Me, my mother and our weight

-related issues

So the trigger for this one was hearing the phrase 'second-order consequences' for the first time in connection with GLP1s. My mother is on some kind of them. No, she hasn't said anything, but these are the clues:

• She relishes telling me about which of her friends have gone on it (and it seems most have)

• Extremely dramatic weight loss that has been sustained and could now be said to have gone too far (and could now be said to be accompanied by

• Ozempic face

• Which is particularly telling after I've observed her yo-yo dieting for over 30 years

• A journey that has already included a gastric band, a tummy tuck, fat-freezing and other dramatic procedures - none of which has had a lasting effect on her weight

• Her telling me, apropos of nothing, that, if she were to ever go on them, she'd never tell anyone, as she would be mortified.

And now here we are.

I'm sure that this history is not unique to us, or shocking to any female born in the nineties. But we have a pretty toxic relationship with weight as a topic. I have several early memories of being in the car with her. She'd pull over outside a newsagent and ask me to pick up a 4-pack of Star Bars. In the car, she'd eat three, I'd eat one, and then she'd pull up by a public bin so that I could hop out of the car again. This time to dispose of the evidence.

It wasn't always Star Bars; other faves included Snickers and Caramac. We tended to stop at different newsagents in the area so no one would suspect. There were also secret stashes of chocolates at home. At the same time, mum would complain about her own mother's habit of secretly eating junk, po-faced, with seemingly no recognition of the irony. I never prodded her on this, just accepted it as strange adult behaviour.

Weighing in at around 110 kilos for around 20 years of her life, while reaching around 5'0" in height, must have been extremely tough. In our household, it must have been particularly so. My dad was embarrassed to be seen with her in public, and wasn't shy to what I now know is fat-shame at home. She was nicknamed all sorts - usually 'walkers' (she couldn't walk far), 'porkers' (self-explanatory) or 'walkers-porkers'. 'While you're on your hind legs' was also a common phrase. Again, as a child, I was really quite oblivious. I thought 'porkers' was spelled as 'palkers' to rhyme with 'walkers', which must have been an affectionate joke on her not being able to walk far. I started catching on when my dad introduced me to a game we'd play while walking together in public. He'd point at someone, and I'd have to whisper in his ear if I thought that person was 'fat' or 'thin'. Fun game. I was 7.

This behaviour also spilled onto me. Also at about 7, my brothers started calling me 'thunder thighs' and other rather stereotypical nicknames. So began my own journey of image issues. I was no bigger than the brothers. I look back now; I was a very ordinary 7-year-old. Not fat, not even chubby.

You can probably fill in the rest. 2 years later, I was in boarding school. Thought about weight so often. By age 14, I was regularly skipping meals and once went 2 weeks without food. Again, looking back at photos, I was not someone you'd guess had weight issues. One Christmas break, my father decided I needed to diet. While the rest of the family ate regular food, I was allowed 2 Ryvita thins with low-fat cottage cheese. 3 times a day. Yum. I gained the weight back and more when I returned to school. Weirdly, I still like cottage cheese.

So, all this is to say. I can empathise with the burden of being overweight, or even of being perceived as being overweight. Weight is a topic for my mum that comes before anything else in the conversation. Before 'how are you', I get 'You're looking slim/chubby/the same'. In response to 'How are you?', I usually get a list of what has/hasn't been eaten that day. Lately, it's 'I haven't eaten anything yet today', usually with a proud tone of voice. This fixation has felt like the norm for my entire life, and hopefully it's clear by now why.

But since I've become a mother, it's all gotten so much more grating, irritating, and downright concerning. Mum's already making comments about the weight and eating habits of my toddler (who is supposed to be chubby and have fat rolls and is in the 30th percentile for weight for her age!!!!). I've asked her to stop, but she hasn't. I wonder if it's because of the lack of boundaries/appropriateness around the topic that we've been mired in for so many years.

Well, now she's clearly on weight-loss drugs and is appropriately gaunt and looking 10 years older. The inappropriate comments relentlessly continue. But here are the second-order consequences of GLP1s on her that she perhaps didn't anticipa

te. She's constantly exhausted (pre-weight-loss drugs, she had the energy to play with a toddler; no longer). She isn't sleeping, and she's irrepressibly irritated and sour. The relationships around her are deteriorating (not only the ones with me and my family).

What I can't help looping back to in my mind is: is this worth it for her? To be suffering and fixated and exhausted, but not be fat?