The Fat Diaries: The Supermarket Field Trip

Suddenly everything was going all wrong! I didn’t want her to equate junk food with fat, I just wanted her to equate good food with healthy.

Yesterday I was, once again, debating whether I should go grocery shopping with the kids or whether popcorn and ketchup would be a good dinner. The fact it was 99° outside was making that ketchup look really good.

In the end, however, the human desire for real food won out and, both kids in tow, I headed to the Giant supermarket.

I like Giant for one reason in particular: hand-scanners.  I like seeing an itemized tally, being able to bag as I go, and simply waltzing through check-out.  It’s also a fantastic way to keep my kids busy in the store. They take turns scanning and then calmly passing the scanner to their sibling. I occasionally hear “It’s your turn now,” or an “Oh, thank you!” from the kids that makes me hope other grownups are listening.

Something occurred yesterday, however, that had never happened before. My daughter started asking me about the food I put into the cart.

“Mommy, can we have blueberries?” she asked.

“Sure, we can have those.”

“Are blueberries healthy?”

I beamed. GREAT question, kiddo .“They sure are. They’re very healthy.”

“Why?”

(I had to think about this.) “They have antioxidants and… uh… vitamin, C and junk… and they’re high in fiber.”

“So I can like them?”

“Yeah, go nuts.”

“Can we get some more healthy food, mommy?”

“You bet. You want some cucumbers?”

“YEAH!!”

At this point I had to suppress the urge to jump up and down with glee. I had a daughter who was interested in eating healthy.  Sure, my son was busy spinning in circles, dangerously close to the pineapples, but ONE of them was starting to care!

I’d been stressing for a while with my kids that we want to eat healthy food so we can have healthy bodies. I’d purposefully avoided the word “fat” because I didn’t want to put emphasis on body type. I simply used the words “healthy” and “unhealthy”.

And this seemed to be doing the trick, to the point where my daughter was now asking questions.

It was all going swimmingly until I grabbed a package of whole-grain tortilla chips (I was going to make nachos with leftover chili).

“Mommy? What are those?”

I froze like I’d been caught doing something unspeakable. “Um. Chips.”

“Are chips healthy?”

“Whole grains are healthy,” (Notice I didn’t say chips were healthy.)

“So chips are healthy?” she asked again with alarming perception.

I couldn’t lie. The damage could be irreversible. “No. They are not.”

“Are they junk?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are we getting them?”

‘Cause I like nachos, I thought, but I knew better than to say it.

“Are they going to make you FAT?” she asked.

Oh crap.

Where the hell did she pick that up from? Did she pick that up from me? Suddenly everything was going all wrong! I didn’t want her to equate junk food with fat, I just wanted her to equate good food with healthy.

Needless to say I spent the rest of the shopping trip in quiet meditation (aside from the usual, “keep your hands to yourself!” “No, that cereal has too much sugar,” “That’s for dogs, not humans,” “If I hear one more quote from SpongeBob…”).

I’m still freaking out. How am I going to do this? My kids are getting to an age where what they learn now can affect how they view food throughout their entire lives. How in the heck am I going to get all the right messages across? How can I instill the right kind of caution without causing them to hate themselves, or judge other people?

I don’t know. There’s a lot of pressure to get everything perfect, and I realize that the chance of perfect is slim to none. There will be lessons to learn, and a bit of re-programming when I get those lessons wrong and have to start again.

I have to accept that I will be asked questions about body-types and diet that will be uncomfortable and justify why some kids get soda and cookies every day but they don’t.

And I won’t always have the right answers, especially considering that I’ve only changed my eating habits in the last four years.

The most I want for them is to avoid the pitfalls I fell into, but I don’t know how, since I never was able to avoid them myself. In other words, I discovered a cure for the sickness, but not how to avoid getting it in the first place.

I feel an overwhelming sense of desperation when I think about how clueless I am right now.

I can’t get discouraged though, even when it seems I’m failing. This is worth trying to get right.