My husband often leaves newspaper articles he thinks may be of interest to me on the dining room table. I rarely read the paper and so always appreciate this thoughtful gesture. This morning I found a copy of Carolyn Hax's syndicated advice column with the title "Daughter keeps gaining weight." I know I've quoted Hax in previous postings, but her insights and depth of knowledge are so often blog-space-worthy!
This morning's article was no exception. What I found interesting was that the query was from a dad...so often these sorts of questions come from moms.
This father was concerned with the weight gain he'd noticed in his 22-year-old daughter on each of her visits home from college. He noted that "Whenever I bring up the subject, she walks away in an angry storm, saying that if I bring up the issue again, she will stop answering my calls." He reported that his wife thinks he's too concerned with looks but he held that as a concerned father he has the right to speak to his daughter about his worry over her weight and that he "only wants to help."
The last four words grabbed me. I recalled how prior to our older daughter's wedding I had concerns about her weight (which were ridiculous and more about me than her...but I digress) and I sat her down to have a heart-to-heart. She said not a word during my diatribe and when I was done, she rose and walked out the door and drove home to her apartment an hour away. I never brought up the subject again. Not because I became enlightened by her non-responsiveness but because my gut knew I should keep my mouth shut. In a rare stroke of insight for me at that time, I actually listened to my internal knowing. I, too, "only wanted to help."
Hax told the dad that he absolutely had the right to talk to his daughter about whatever he wanted and that "certainly a father is in a fine position to help." She then continued with the following questions:
Does this college-educated 22-year-old need you to tell her that most fast food has a lot of calories and bad fat? That without exercise, her body probably won't burn all that energy? Does she need you to tell her that unburned food will be stored in her body as fat? Does she -- or anyone, for that matter, with even semi-fitted clothing and a mirror -- need you to tell her she's getting fatter?
Hax reveals the "not too hidden" message inside this father's concerns when she explains that "At face value, you're calling her fat. If she digs, she'll see you're calling her stupid." A difficult indictment to take from one's father. Her next words were the ones that have become an often repeated refrain from me since my awakening, "Parental praise is easily dismissed. Parental criticism (contempt or disgust in particular) is radioactive, and has a long half-life [emphasis mine]."
Hax mentions some of the reasons why a person may acquire extra pounds especially during challenging transitional times in their lives or when "underlying emotional problems" are present. The final paragraphs, though, provide great gems of wisdom for all of us to take to the bank:
The first is to listen to her. Not about what you think is important for you to know, but about what she thinks is important to say. Hear your daughter. Love her. Get to know her. Like her for who she is.
The second is to give her enough time and space to figure herself out, before you elbow your way in to declare her in need of fixing. Why alienate your daughter (and introduce baggage) over a problem that she, time, and even graduation, might very well solve on their own?
Personally, I would go a bit further and add that no one, particularly not our adult children, enjoys hearing that they are in need of fixing. If we follow Hax's advice to "Like her for who she is" then "fixing" or giving someone enough time to see if they "fix" themselves becomes a moot point. I offer, instead, that if we find ourselves with the desire to "fix" someone else, we need to look inside to see what may need fixing within us.
Blessings until next time,
Doris
Comments