“Your reproof
I shall never forget: ‘had you behaved in a more gentleman like manner.’ You know not, how those words have tortured me.”
Pride and
Prejudice, BBC Production
In the way that it often does, life brought me several
reminders of the power of words this week.
Like many people and especially those of us who live in the world of
obesity do, I started the New Year with a renewed intention to get healthy—including
weight loss. I’ll write more about that
journey as the year progresses (so far I’m doing great) but this story starts
in my weekly Weight Watchers meeting.
The theme was “changing from the outside in” -- not quite the beauty
comes from within message that we so often hear--the concept being that
sometimes we need to change our environment in order to shore up our insides. The less nice way to say this is “fake it ‘til
you make it.” The leader suggested we
start by changing the way we talk to and about ourselves because words matter.
Many overweight people have a very messed up image of
themselves, rarely based on what the mirror actually shows. I have always thought of myself as fat—fat kid,
fat teenager, fat adult. The reality is
that, while I had my chubby moments, I didn’t really get “fat” until my late
teens. So why the impression and what
does it have to do with words? (yes, I’m getting there) Throughout my childhood memories are snippets
of conversations with well meaning family members regarding my weight; an uncle
promising to “work the baby fat off” over a summer of horse riding and farm work,
my aunt assuring me that cutting salt out of my diet would help me lose weight
(I was 5’6” and a size 7 at the time); and a treasured grandparent offering new
clothes in exchange for pounds lost. Those
moments and many more, big and small, helped cement this internal snapshot of a
fat girl that remained even when I wasn’t.
Words matter.
I had a student in my office this week asking for help with
math. The first thing she said was “I am
so stupid, I always have been.” Words
matter. We talked about that voice in
your head and how to make it stop the never-ending laundry list of your
shortcomings and start celebrating your strength. Words matter.
Even when we are joking, words matter. In the midst of a frustrating night of
homework with my 2nd grader, a delivery man rang the doorbell. With a whining and complaining 8 year old
yelling from the living room and a dog shooting past me to the great outdoors,
I quipped “would you like a kid, heck I’ll pay you to take him and the dog.” Little did I know said kid had his listening
ears on and when I came around the corner he eyed me reproachfully with tears
streaming down his sad, sweet face. “You
hate me,” he cried, “you told that man he could take me and you tried to sell
my dog!” A little taken aback at the
intensity of his reaction, my first response was to laugh—bad plan. He forbade me to sit with him and, at my
attempts to talk, he angrily pantomimed a zipped lip as he pointed at me. After a few minutes I explained to him that I
was just joking the way parents do, but that I was very sorry I had hurt his feelings. His response-- “You didn’t just hurt my
feelings, you broke my heart.” Words
matter.
My challenge, to you and to myself, is to choose your words
carefully; to be encouraging instead of entertaining, sensitive instead of
sarcastic, ever mindful of the power you possess because words matter.
