The Things You Pass To Your Children

Trigger warning: Mental Health and Eating Disorders

“One and two and three and four.  One and two and three and four.” Cheryl shouts and squats along with the blond women on the television.  She had subscribed to Samantha’s Twenty Minute Booty Blast for the past few months.  She took before pictures of herself and has been taking progress pictures.  These pictures were by the insistence on the Booty Blast method “in order to stay motivated”.  Cheryl claims the difference is huge.  Her husband, Mark, claims to not see it. 

Cheryl and Mark met in college.  Shortly after graduating, they got married on a warm spring day in her parents' back yard. On their honeymoon Cheryl got pregnant and they were excited to find out that they were having triplets.  First was Mark Junior, also known as MJ, then came Leo, and finally, came the family pride and joy, a little baby girl named Marley.  Cheryl was pleased with her family of five.   

The children were ten now and each started to get their own personalities.  MJ was sporty.  Leo was bookish.  And Marley was the comedian of the family.

Cheryl leaned over and touched her toes just as Samantha did.  “Feel the stretch,” Samantha exclaims.  Cheryl bent left and then right. “Great workout!” Cheryl said to herself with a smile on her face.  She turned the television off and went to shower.  She then went to get the kids ready for school.  Waking up at four in the morning was brutal but it was worth it for the twenty minute workout before needing to attend to her other duties.

Three eggs sizzled sunny side up in the pan in Cheryl’s hand.  She had already made the bacon and white toast.  She made four plates.  Each with two slices of bacon (three for Mark), two eggs (three for Mark) and a slice of toast with strawberry jam (two for Mark).  And then she started on her own meal: one egg, yolks removed, and steamed spinach. 

The three children and Mark came in at their own time.  Each sitting down in front of their identical plate, except for Mark, whose plate was matched with a newspaper and a little bit more on his plate. 

When they were done.  They collected their sack lunch which Cheryl had placed on the counter for each of the family members to take. The children each took theirs, a ham sandwich and a bag of chips.  Mark took his, a ham sandwich (with twice the ham), a bag of chips, a cookie, and various snacks for him to nibble on throughout the day.  Cheryl took her sack lunch, a salad with grilled chicken breast and a balsamic vinaigrette.  The family of five was ready to start the day.

The day went as it always did in Cheryl’s classroom.  She greeted her kindergarteners and signed them in, reporting that only little Robert was absent.  They then read a story and sang songs. She had the kindergarteners draw a picture about what they wanted to be when they grew up. They did some math with colorful cubes and then lunch.  Cheryl ate her salad in her classroom by herself, distracting herself from the bland taste by reviewing the afternoon plan.  When the children were back, she conducted more activities revolving around social studies and structured play.  Once the children vacated the room, she set up for the next day’s activities.  

As she was leaving she caught a glance of herself in the mirror hanging in the cupboard.  She turned left, putting one hand on her stomach and one hand on her back.  She then turned right.  She shook her head and closed the cabinet door.

She gathered her three children waiting for her to head home.  Cheryl was pleased with how the day had gone.  That is until she laid her eyes on Marley.

“What’s wrong, baby girl?” Cheryl asked her youngest child.  Cheryl bent down to hug her child.  She wanted to pick her daughter up, place her in her lap, and hold her like she used to, but thought better of it.  Marley was not a little girl anymore.  And the Booty Blast workout only did so much for upper body strength. 

“It’s the kids at school.  They were being mean to me,” Marley sobbed. 

“How were they being mean?  What did they do?” Cheryl looked into her daughter’s eyes hoping it was something she could fix.  She would do anything to stop the hurt her little girl was feeling.

“They kept oinking at me,” Marley cried, “They called me ‘little piggy.’  They kept poking my stomach.”

“There there,” Cheryl rubbed her daughter’s back.

When the three children and Cheryl arrived at home the kids threw down their backpacks and arranged themselves in front of the television. 

“Only for an hour, you guys, then it’s homework time,” Cheryl shouted to them from the kitchen.  

A few minutes later, Cheryl appeared at the coffee table where the children were sitting.  She laid down two chocolate milks and two pizza pockets before disappearing back into the kitchen.  The boys immediately snatched up the snacks before Marley could lean forward.

“Hey, where is mine?” Marley asked.

Cheryl reappeared at the coffee table where the children were sitting. In one hand was a plate with carrot sticks and celery and in the other, a glass of water.  “Here you go, my darling girl.”

Marley stared at her afternoon snack.  “But I want chocolate milk and a pizza pocket.” 

Cheryl shook her head, “chocolate milk and pizza pockets are for little girls.  Big girls need to eat healthy.” And with that she left the room.

For dinner, Cheryl made three steaks, three baked potatoes, and creamed spinach, and prepared three glasses of Pepsi.  She also made two steamed salmon with two small piles of broccoli florets.  Also steamed.

Six years later, Marley sat on the cold bathroom floor.  Her throat burned but she was used to it by now.  She flushed the toilet and watched her dinner swirl down.  She brushed her teeth and washed her hands.  She looked at herself in the mirror for a second and then she lifted her t-shirt so that it sat right below her small mounds for breasts.  She pinched her stomach between her thumb and forefinger.  “Oink,” she whispered to herself. All she felt was misery.