Other decisions we make about her life maybe seem equally trivial (or are they?) are sometimes challenged and have us frequently pondering out loud on their implications.
One of the biggies is the issue of the Food Police. La has no preconceptions about how she should look or is any way capable of making a connection between what she consumes and its effect on her health. Added to that the sodium valproate she takes to control her epilepsy does give her a raging appetite and the end result is a bit of a belly and a rather rotund physique.
So how far should her carers go to limit what she eats and control her food choices? Yesterday she returned from the Day centre with a gingerbread man, flouting my instruction for fruit-only purchases. In the past I have found receipts for crisps and mega choccy bars in her bag. They would argue that the meals provided at the centre are all balanced and healthy and trips like this are for treats. I give her pocket money, La is over 18 and deserves some autonomy every once in a while.
I kind of get the point.
I think my other daughters would describe the food I prepare and provide them as super-healthy compared to what other young women eat. And that's before we bring in the alcohol which, thankfully, is not an issue with La. I know I could actually go further so to me it feels like there are compromises. As with all mothers, if I were to make what I want, our dinners would be very different most days. We eat a lot of organic, almost always cook from scratch, limit red meat and fried foods and it's wholegrains, wholegrains, wholegrains for as far as I can get away with it. Too many refined carbs and fats are a bit of a no-no for me - but that's the current perceived wisdom, isn't it? The kind you find in all the mainstream recommendations about food and diet?
From the moment I started consciously controlling La's portions and diet, she immediately lost a significant amount of weight. How smug was I? However, she may be 'slow' but she 'gets there' when it really matters and after about a month, she became wise to my campaign and battle, as they say, commenced. A battle, I might say which has been raging now for at least 5 years.
In moments of despair, La's Dad does point out that she does not seem to be gaining weight. (She now resolutely refuses to stand on the bathroom scales.) Although about 5' 3", she's a steady size 12/14 and has been for some years; when you look at her peers in the various places she attends, she's comparatively anorexic. I look back on the photos of La aged 13 and she's a slender young thing. Now, at best, she's 'chubby'. Am I wrong to get upset about this? Am I going too far to project my own ideas of physical goals on her?
Added to all this is that La is and always has been such a great 'eater'. She will devour four or five helpings of granny's apple crumble and custard while I'm balancing the benefits if the pleasure that is giving granny and the toll it will take on La's trousers.
Still, I persist. There is a bolt on the kitchen door which La has now mastered. Hardly a biscuit, cake or crisp inhabits the kitchen. We do love to bake at weekends but I get twitchy when the whole lot is not eaten at the first family sitting because La can sniff out leftovers hidden in the most ingenious places at the back of cupboards or hidden parts of the fridge.
The breadbin is a tricky one, as you can see, let alone any fresh-baked bread being left out to cool. La considers those an open invitation to gorge, which can have me screaming with frustration.
Last year we bought a fridge lock from America which is a godsend, I can tell you, especially as all the fruit now has to be saved in there. When I open the fridge to grab a quick carrot for the salad, La is upon me, out of nowhere, ready to grab at the leftover quiche or a slab of cheddar.
You only need to look at La to see that healthy, fresh, organic it may all be but too much of anything does not keep you slim.
In the next post, more dilemmas, and this time it gets even more political...
No comments:
Post a Comment