I awoke the morning of my twenty-eighth birthday determined to make it my most fabulous year yet. Tonight, I thought, I’m painting the town red in that slinky cap-sleeve number that shows off my décolletage. I opened a birthday card from my ex-boyfriend Eric,* who had remained a close friend. Inside was a top-five list of why I was the most wonderful woman he knows. Number three: “Because you always let me shower first—in case the hot water’s tricky.” When Eric used to spend the night, I’d tell him to shower while I made the bed and put on coffee. “The hot water’s tricky sometimes,” I’d assure him, flashing him a smile.
But the plumbing in my building was fine. The truth: At 330 pounds, I had developed heel spurs and swollen knees that made it excruciatingly painful to stand up after lying down for eight hours, so getting out of bed was always an orchestrated event. I’d send any man who slept over off to shower, and once the coast was clear, I’d swing my legs out and put my feet on the ground gingerly, allowing the blood to return to my feet and legs. After a minute, I could stand. After another minute, I was comfortable enough to start walking.
Reading Eric’s card was a powerful reminder that, while I’d done my very best to love my super-plus-size body, I couldn’t keep lying to myself or anyone else. The physical pain I’d endured in my twenties could not continue into my thirties. I had to lose weight.
But how? I have more or less been on a diet since I was eight years old. None of them worked. An overweight kid and already dining for sport, my first was the “Basta” diet. At home, my mother, Iman, a beauty icon and devotee of clean eating, would whisper basta (“enough” in Italian) when I was in danger of overeating. The choice was always mine, and I usually put down the fork. But I also got hip to late-night snacking, raiding the refrigerator and cupboards after midnight. At school I routinely traded lunches, and when I was old enough to buy my own, I would pass over apples for Hostess Apple Pies. We always had plenty of nutritious snacks at home, but there was nothing more satisfying than savoring a secret Twinkie that I exchanged homework answers for. In the end, all I learned from basta was how to make PB&J in the dark.
Read the rest of Zulekha Haywood story at Glamour
7 comments:
it must have been alot of pressure growing up with a supermodel mom and not feeling beautiful.
WHo would put an 8 year old on a diet? crazy delusional shallow bitches...
I would punch my momma in the face twice if she had the financial means to raise me healthy and didn't.
A lot of celebrity kids are fat, it's like dumb azz stars associate being overweight with being "NORMAL" it's like how they call women with hips "real women" WTF....heavy does not equal real, it equals on a budget and overworked and don't have time for healthy eating
Stop using your kids like tools for normalcy and raise them to be healthy
Lisa Rays, Brandy, Demi Moore, Tom Cruise, Whitney Houston, that Bobby Christina started out rough, Ashanti little big sister
good for her. she looks good but i think she looks better fat. she looks like a prettier kim wayans now.
lman left het father to raise her . I remember when she did and interview as a child. She said her mother never made her feel beautiful.
Read Her father's book. Iman hated her becuase Iman didn't think she was pretty and too dark. Iman didn't want to be seen in public with her duaghter. When they went shopping, Iman would send the girl in alone so that no one would know she was her daughter. That poor girl overate becuase she felt unloved. IMAN WAS NEVER A MOTHER TO THIS GIRL!! Iman didn't turn into a mother until she married Bowie and had his children.
^^ you are so right!
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