I was always the big girl.

For as long as I can remember I have carried the extra kilos, have never been the skinny girl, never will.

School was a tragic affair of teasing and bullying. There were things that happened in the playground that I will carry with me forever.

Like that teacher in the forth grade who made ‘Boom Boom’ sounds (to the jeers and applause of the sporty kids) as I thundered down the run to the long jump pit in a bid to participate in the compulsory sports day.

Or the fifth grade dance item I was not allowed to participate in because my being large detracted from the overall effect of the dance of the Maypole.

Or the time the sixth graders tripped me and pulled down my underwear so that everyone could see how large my backside actually was.

Ah good times, my friends, good times.

Things were not much better in highschool, although going to an all girls school taught me that cruelty was possible in stealth mode and that you could be mean in a really passive aggressive way.

I could go into how my father’s stock standard line for me, that I looked like the side of a house, or even more bluntly that I was fat and ugly and that he was embarrassed to walk down the street with me, made things thousands of times worse but that would just be laying the blame on someone who can’t defend their actions (read dead) and besides that I’m all about taking responsibility for my own choices.

And I chose to put the food in my mouth. I made the wrong food choices, for whatever reasons.

As an adult it has taken me a long time to feel comfortable in my own skin.

My first diet was when I was eight and I have yo - yo - ed ever since.

I ballooned out to a massive 134kg then took control and lost 58kg and then put it all back on again post death of baby and then lost 40kgs of that so that I could fall pregnant again. I have only lost a minimal amount since birthing for the last time but I am ok with that for now.

I am a big girl and that sits okay with me for the first time ever.

When I say okay, I mean I sometimes look in the mirror and don’t like what I see and tell myself I need to do something about it but mostly, I just accept that this is me and go with it.

Motherhood has changed my body in ways I never thought possible. My wobbly bits got wobblier and I have lumps and bumps that would make any plastic surgeon shudder (either that or have them rubbing their hands in anticipated millions with all the work that needed to be done to achieve anything resembling a ‘normal’ body).

I think becoming a mother has also changed my perspective on body image and that is why I am okay with being larger than the average Australian gal.

As a mum, (and a larger mum, with multiple food issues) I have worked really hard to teach the girls about right choices, exercise and everything in moderation. I’ve tried to teach them that everyone is different and that is okay. I’ve taught them about genetics and how their parentage plays a big role in their DNA and that they need to take that into consideration when choosing the food they put into their bodies. Immy and Maddy have been taught about fat cell lay down early in life and how these will be filled as they become adolescents, in anticipation for their child bearing years.

An interesting side to this was how society has changed but the human body has not evolved along with it.

I’ve tried to teach the kids about teasing and how even a tiny little thing can stay with a person forever, wounding them deeply. (Imogen understands, she has endured alot of teasing about her teeth in the past).

I am proud that my girls are in the right weight range for their height. I have worked hard to get them there. Okay, they are bigger than some of the girls in their year. The girls who are allowed to diet (mine aren’t), the girls who are small by genetics (my aren’t), the girls who are still riding on that fast childhood metabolism (I never let that be a chance to be less vigilant).

I am proud that the kids accept that people come in all different shapes and sizes. To me that is the most important thing.

I have to say though that I am saddened and disappointed, after all that hard work, that a teacher would make a remark, one single remark, that one of my girls was ‘big’.

With that, it has brought about requests to limit calories and has made my girls doubt themselves, it has rocked the named ‘big’ girl’s confidence to the very core.

I am angry.

I have pondered why I am so angry for a while.

Is it because of my own struggles with rude comments made by adults who were supposed to help to build my confidence and a happy, healthy me?

Is it because I don’t want my kids to ever feel the way I did? Maybe because I know what it feels like.

Is it because I feel that my own choices now reflect on my children?

Maybe it’s because I think it’s wrong that someone as influential as a teacher makes those judgement calls, those life altering words that will sting forever.

What right did this person have to do that? She must think herself pretty perfect to be able to say that to an almost 12 year old.

Maybe it’s for all the above reasons and that it hurt my girl and that it hurt me.

The question now is; what am I going to do about it?

Aside from damage control from my side, should I kick up a fuss at the school?