Words matter.
They shape who we are, what we become, and they stay with us, hovering like nasty gnats, circling around our minds and our souls, like one of those cartoon air clouds. We can stick a pin in it and watch it burst like a balloon. We can put the words behind us, but, they can still linger, dormant. Out of nowhere, they can erupt in the pit of our stomachs, in a corner of our minds, in how we feel about ourselves, and in how we feel about others.
We all make mistakes, saying things we regret; sometimes as soon as the words escape our lips. We are humans, and humans err, especially the human writing these words on this cold, white page, but, we hope that we don’t make the same error again (and again, and again).
As the old adage goes, leopards don’t change their spots.
Either do serial shamers.
As a child, I was body shamed, every six months, by someone whose very oath of his profession, “do no harm”, should have halted his words. He was my pediatrician and his words have had a lasting effect on me. I will call him Dr. CJ. I have been thinking of him a great deal lately, through a campaign season that has been rocky, to say the least; one in which “body shaming” keeps showing its ugly head.
From my infancy until my medical check-up for college, Dr. C.J. was the physician who took care of me. He got me through measles and chicken pox, strep throat and polio vaccines. He made house calls and he referred me to specialists when the need arose.
He also humiliated me, every six months!
My earliest memories (and I remember well) go to back to the age of just shy of six years old and the memory doesn’t change for the next twelve years. EVERY office visit, I would be measured and weighed, then I would hide my tears, for I knew what was coming. C.J. would enter the examining room, sit down, and proceed to comment on my weight. His litany would include tirades to the tune of “five pounds in six months, ten pounds at the end of the year, twenty pounds next year. He would then proceed to write a list of all the things I should not eat. I remember the P’s, probably because I am Penny. “No pasta, peanuts, pretzels, popcorn . . . ” .
His lists were alphabetical. I still have one, in his own handwriting, on a half sheet of paper. His rambling tone was accusatory and it was belittling. He would go on to say other things, such as
“and none of the small powdery cookies your Greek grandmother makes“.
Interesting enough, my Yia Yia would send a tin of them to him every Christmas.
When my sister and I had our tonsils taken out one cold and blustery winter, a “two for one” sale if ever there was one, we were sitting with Ma in the formidable waiting area of what was then the Presbyterian Hospital. We were bundled up in coats and boots and scarfs. My throat was sore, I was drowsy, and we were waiting for my father to bring the car up to the door. Suddenly, there was C.J., looming over me, saying in what was, to me, a very loud voice,
” don’t think this means you can have all the ice cream you want!”.
As I readied myself for college, I needed a physical. I just wanted to get it over with, then go shopping for some new clothes for college. I was feeling good about myself, having been accepted at several universities, chosen the best one for me, and having slimmed down, grown long hair, and looking toward my future. Just this one appointment to keep.
“So, you’ve lost some weight, Penny. Well, don’t think that will get you boyfriends. You need to lose more.”
My life has been good, dear reader. It is as filled with wonder and joy as it is filled with requisite pain and loss that we all experience, but, these words, they have stayed with me, no matter how hard I shove them away, especially in this ugly season where shaming seems to be the norm.
Even now, I fret and get a knot in my stomach when a doctor’s appointment looms. It is sad and wrong and not at all adult, but, truth-be-told, what I fret about is what will the scale say about me, and I morph, if only for a few moments, into that belittled young girl.
I have had, by all accounts, led a good life with loving and decent family, friends, teachers, and doctors. I do not want you to feel sorry for me. What I do want is for all of us to be cognizant of words and their power, and how, the adults in the room – whether it be an office, a stage, a computer, a viewing screen – are mindful of how powerful and significant words can be, especially when those words are repeated, over and over and over again.
We do need to care about and monitor what our children eat – and what we eat as well – but we need to remember that words count as much, if not more, than calories, and we need to honor and respect each other, just the way we are.
Lifeonthecutoff's Blog 
Thanks for this, Penny. I wasn’t shamed for my weight, I was a skinny little kid. It was the teachers, who instead of being pleased shamed me for my intelligence. “How dare you speak to an adult like an adult.” “You BOLD thing you.” and other comments in that general vein. I was an only child in a household of three intelligent adults, who treated me as a not quite done adult, just someone who needed to learn a few things, not stupid, not even ignorant, just not done yet (I’m still not done learning, probably never will be). But to speak to a teacher in school as an equal was simply not something they could handle. To question the text book (I was reading well before going to school and my mother got told about how only teachers could teach children to read – she told them they were nuts, I had taught myself and been read to a lot, prompted by my completeing the entire kindergarten workbook in a week since it was easy reading the instructions), or to bring up something that was related but not in the textbook. All in all, school was a horror. I was stuck with a bunch of kids who while the same physical age, were definitely much younger than I was and then there were the teachers. I realize most of them were overburdened with classes of 35 to 40 kids every day. There were a couple who tried to challenge my massive curiousity, but on the whole something that that was very rare. I pretty much ended up an auto dydact (go back and read “Dick and Jane” now and you have some idea how empty school was, they were years behind me before I even started kindergarten). Now I have someone close to me, who should know better, who fusses about my weight. I’m no kid, haven’t been in a long time. The physical disability is worse, the knees are bone-on-bone and exercise is generally exhausting and increases the physical discomfort – I tell them to shut the **** up they’re no one to talk as their midsection is certainly wider than their hips. But you’re very right, those words, those digs and cuts stay long, long after those people are out of your life and creep in to poke you again and again as the years pass. Words definitely matter, they mean things and we all should be more careful using them.
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Indeed, words do “poke you again and again” as the years pass by, and here you are, still dealing with the shaming in other ways. It pains me to read it. I hope we have gotten better at recognizing and accepting children on all levels of intelligence and learning. I think we have, but, there are so many ways and words to cut and dig?
I’m not done yet either – and hope I never am.🙂
Thank you so very much for your comments and for sharing your experiences. Stay curious and inquisitive and being exactly who you are. Years ago, back when I taught, I would have enjoyed having you in my classroom.
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Words can be so hurtful and they stay with you for a long time. I was a skinny tall girl with glasses and no curves anywhere. Everybody tried to put weight on me by feeding me constantly. I wanted to look like Marilyn Monroe and have curves like her. I hope you are feeling better and getting around a little bit.
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Words can stay with us forever, can’t they? I have always thought this was more of an American “thing”, but, it seems to be more universal. Thank you, Gerlinde, for sharing this – and for asking after me. I am feeling better and am getting out and about a bit more. In fact, I will heading out to a meeting in a few hours – and driving myself. 🙂 I am taking it easy and keeping my foot up as much as possible.
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This is a powerful and important message! Unfortunately, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” isn’t true. The names I was called by my peers throughout school – from loser to stupid – always pop back into my head when I’m feeling insecure. They probably always will. We need to feed ourselves (and others) with positive words whenever possible.
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I know, Jennifer. That old adage doesn’t hold up when we are being stabbed by cutting words, but parents recite them just the same. It is in those times of insecurity, doubt, sadness, etc. that they revisit us and hurt once again, BUT, you are none of the words. In fact, you are a worthy craftswoman of something bigger; sentences that illuminate and inform and kindness that you always spread.
Here is to positive feeding frenzies. Thank you, Jennifer.
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Well said Penny! I’ve been there too and you’re right the words do stay with you. There is a lot to be said about the “PC” of modern times where that sort of thing is looked down upon, unlike years ago when body shaming of girls and women was par for the course. However, with this election and the “tell it like it is” crowd, it seems like we’re going backwards.
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Thank you. Some of the “tell it like it is” crowd are doing this very thing and it concerns me. I think that most women in our age group have been subjected to this shaming at some point, I had just hoped it was over. Not so.
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Penny this made me sad and mad. And if you do have that paper I hope you will give it the burial it deserves. The doctor thought he was helping you with his canned speech about the deadly P’s. In a twisted way he did. He made you more conscious of the fact that words can do more harm than a few pounds on a little girl. And all that has made you the lover of words that you are with your special talent for coming up with sentences that comfort, explain, teach and help us to be better people. Thank you for reminding us of the impact words make.
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Thank you, Marilyn. Your own words and kindness are appreciated.
When I think of this doctor and cringe anew at how he made me feel, I then think of all who have been subjected to harsh, ugly, demeaning words, still are and then I remember to watch my own words.
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Oh, Penny! That is sad. Especially coming from a person who should have been a trusted adult. I got my share of teasing and body shaming growing up, but from peers — it was just the way it was back then. My parents loved the adage that Jennifer talks about in her comment above. But it wasn’t true then and still isn’t. I thought things were better when our kids were growing up — and our older grandkids even. But now I fear we are regressing.
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I share your fear that we seem to be regressing, Sallie, and hope the “adults in the room” realize how words can have life-long impacts. As a parent, I have sorrily used the adage Jennifer refers to, even knowing it really isn’t so. (I am the queen of adages, as my children will probably agree 🙂 ) It is bad enough when children taunt each other, and still a problem made more biting in the age of technology, but, when adults do it, it is even worse. Sigh. Let’s hope for a brighter future. Thank you, Sallie.
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I don’t know how I missed this post. And how very sad a situation you describe. There’s no excuse for someone who uses words to wound others. Even if they think they’re being “helpful.” It’s just like someone who says something cutting and then adds, “No offense.”
I’m sorry you were put through that, Penny. Words wound. But the right words can heal.
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For sure, L. Marie. It always seems that if someone needs to say “No offense”, it must be offensive.
Thank you. Other than a fear of scales in the doctor’s office :), I am fine, but, those days did hurt and I think of all the people, especially children, who have these scars of life.
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Dear kind Penny. It hurts me to think of you being shamed for anything at all! In my teens I developed an eating disorder that could have been very serious, and I struggled with it for many years. My mother, a very tiny person, “worried” about my size , which was much more average, and that really did a number on me. When I look at pictures from high school I’m absolutely shocked at how small I really was! The other day a friend and I were discussing how long-lasting the results of shaming can be! I definitely share in your concern for how children are affected by the images and messages they perceive all around them. Words do hurt and scar. There’s no way to say they don’t! I take great pleasure in presenting as many positive messages as I can to the children in my life. I hope we all can do that much and that makes a difference.
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Thank you, Debra, for your kind words and for sharing your own experiences with body image and eating disorders. I am grateful that you are a constant, positive messenger to children in life. Yes. You make a difference and will continue to do so.
I have wanted to write this post for some time, several years, in fact, and it felt like now was the moment in time to do so. From all of the thoughtful comments here, it seems there are so very many ways to shame and no number to the years we carry it’s affect. It is helpful, at least to me, to acknowledge what has happened, and try to carry the positive words and actions needed forward.
Have you watched This Is Us, a new series this year? It has a great cast and deals with so many issues, body image being one of them.
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Oh how awful Penny. It’s a story I’ve heard from others as well. Thank goodness you had so much love in your family to counteract this shaming.
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I was fortunate in my family, that is certain. What troubles me now is that shaming continues, and comes from people seeking leadership rolls, not to mention the shaming that goes on in social media. Still, I have hope . . .
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