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Yahoo
01-07-2025
- Health
- Yahoo
I Was Horrified By What A Teacher Asked My Daughter To Do. His Response To Me Was Just As Disturbing.
I genuinely try to curb my mama bear instincts in most situations. So when my 15-year-old daughter Lilly climbed into our car during the second week of her sophomore year of high school and said that her health teacher was making the class keep a food journal, I fought to quiet the alarm bells going off in my head. 'It's OK, though,' she told me. 'Please — PLEASE — don't send one of your emails.' I sighed. 'Fine.' She was new to this high school and didn't want to be The Girl With That Mom. A week later, Lilly called me into her room. Her eyes were filled with tears. 'Today the health teacher said, 'I don't care if you eat just 1,000 calories a day.' I'm sure he was joking, but I don't think I can stay in this class.' She sighed. 'Also, he's making us use a calorie tracker for our food journals, the same one I used last year.' A cold fist squeezed my stomach because I knew exactly what she was referring to. I would never forget the days of watching my daughter eat less and less, turn down food at dinner, and throw away almost entire meals when we ate out, as she slipped into the trap of disordered eating. The worst part was that I knew that trap all too well. When I was her exact same age I was admitted to a hospital for anorexia nervosa. My weight was dangerously low after a series of traumatic circumstances left me reeling, grappling for a sense of control in my life, and finding that control in what I ate. Or rather, didn't eat. I was in treatment for 26 days, during which I was often confined to bed for hours due to problems with my pulse and blood pressure. After being discharged, I wanted to stay out of the hospital, but food was still one area of my life where I could exert control. Every night for over a year, I wouldn't let myself fall asleep until I tallied the calories of everything I'd eaten to ensure it was the Goldilocks amount — not too much to gain weight, but not too little that I would lose any either. Packaged foods made it easy to know exactly how much I had consumed, and I tried to eat most meals at home so I could measure and track my intake. It wasn't until I turned 16 that I stopped counting calories. I traveled to Australia that summer and quickly realized my system wasn't sustainable. Instead, I began listening to and trusting my body. I went to cafes with friends where we sipped frothy cappuccinos, then enjoyed stews or pasties for dinner and Lamingtons for dessert. Someone introduced me to TimTams, the heavenly chocolate cookies that managed to both crumble and melt in my mouth. I suddenly realized how exhausted I was by calorie tracking, and it was so freeing to fall asleep at night without conducting my obsessive tally. After that, I made it a point not to count calories, fast, or diet. I had always been athletic, but now I listened to my body and didn't try to hurt it with my workouts. When I became a mother, I wanted to make sure my children never knew the hell of disordered eating. I stopped buying popular women's magazines when I realized how they all had cover lines like, 'Lose 10 pounds this month!' in bright, bold letters. My kids saw me work out, but I kept the emphasis on being strong and using fitness to help me deal with stress. I never said degrading things about my body, never weighed myself except at doctor visits, and never demonized food in front of them. In 'Sleeping Beauty,' Aurora's parents destroy all the spindles in the kingdom after the evil fairy Maleficent says the princess will prick her finger on one and die — yet she still manages to find one. Aurora is drawn to it, though it's locked away in a tower, as if her demise is inevitable. What I didn't know then, but research is now proving, is that eating disorders may also be genetic, so, despite all my efforts, I watched a perfect storm headed straight for my daughter. Over the course of a year, during the pandemic, we moved twice, and the second time we found ourselves living abroad. Lilly attended a prestigious international school where she was bullied by her classmates whenever she asked questions and ridiculed for not already knowing the answers. Worse still, the girls who sat with Lilly at lunch threw out their meals after just a bite or two and acted horrified if she ate everything on her plate. I thought my daughter was different from me — less sensitive and more resilient — and that she would be able to handle what was happening. She had an effervescent personality and made friends wherever she went. Her uncle once joked that if it was possible to distill the essence of Lilly and distribute it to the world, there would be no need for antidepressants any more. Not only that, she was impressively strong and seemed to excel at whatever sport she tried. Instead, she began to crack under the pressure. One day, she found a calorie tracker online, unbeknownst to me, and stopped eating almost entirely. Her weight plummeted. It was terrifying for me to witness. She acknowledged her need for help, and though her struggle seemed hopeless, Lilly eventually fought her way back to health. We moved again, and the social environment at her new school was relaxed and friendly. She seemed happy and at peace, and I felt myself breathing deep sighs of relief — until she told me about the food journal and calorie tracking assignment. 'Lilly,' I said gently, after she told me about her health class struggles, 'we have to say something.' She paused, thinking for a moment, then nodded her head in agreement. First I sent the health teacher an email explaining why I was concerned and asking if we could exempt Lilly from the assignment or alter it to remove the tracker. I addressed his comment about eating 1,000 calories, since that isn't enough to even maintain weight, and offered to speak to his classes about eating disorders. He responded by saying that he didn't teach that material in his class, and of course he didn't mean what he had said, but there was no way that he would change the assignment for Lilly or anyone. I sent another email, fully aware I was quickly becoming That Mom. However, it was now about more than me wanting to protect just my daughter. In the absence of a holistic approach that included education about eating disorders, I was looking out for all of the kids who might not recognize a calorie tracker as the loaded gun it was and could, before they knew it, find themselves in the same trap that Lilly and I had once been in. I filled my follow-up email with links to articles on the relationship between calorie tracking and eating disorders, and then I hit 'send.' I didn't receive a reply. In light of how recent Lilly's recovery was and how delicate it still seemed, I decided to withdraw her from the class. Her guidance counselor, also a parent, was supportive and equally concerned about this teacher's curriculum. Calorie trackers have no place in middle or high school health classes. They teach us to look at our food consumption like a scorecard and judge whether we did terrible, OK, or excellent. Teenagers' prefrontal cortices are still developing, already making them more susceptible to social pressures and mental health issues, and assignments like these compound that risk. Although teens might find calorie trackers on their own, as Lilly did, using them in school assignments pushes them into a vulnerable — and potentially dangerous — position. There are better ways to present nutritive eating to kids and to talk about what food does for us. Health educators need to address the many forms of eating disorders that affect millions of people every year. Emphasizing how social media distorts reality is also essential. Lilly still needs to take a health class to complete her graduation requirements, and I know her next teacher might take the same approach as her last one. What then? my inner mama bear wonders, with no small amount of trepidation. Even though I hate that we both went through the same darkness of an eating disorder, I'm so thankful for our close relationship and that Lilly knows she can come to me with her struggles. I'm having to learn yet again that there's so much I cannot control, which means I can't guarantee my kids won't face challenges, but I can still try to protect them — and their friends and peers — from unnecessary peril. Joy Nicholas' writing has appeared in Business Insider, Brevity Blog, Coffee + Crumbs, and other publications. She grew up moving all over the world and is currently working on her first book, a memoir. Connect with her on Instagram at @joynicholaswrites and through her Substack Joy in the World. Do you have a compelling personal story you'd like to see published on HuffPost? Find out what we're looking for here and send us a pitch at pitch@ I Went To My Son's Class To Explain How He Goes To The Bathroom. Here's Why. My 15-Year-Old Daughter Died. I Recently Found A Box Of Hers — And What Was Inside Left Me Shaken. I'm A Teacher. Here's The Shocking Truth About The 'Woke' Indoctrination Of Students That Terrifies Conservatives.
Yahoo
01-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
How I Unlearned Everything I Was Taught About Love
When you buy through links on our articles, Future and its syndication partners may earn a commission. The only romantic relationship I've ever had lasted exactly one week. It was my sophomore year of high school, and at the homecoming dance, I had my first-ever slow dance and my first kiss with a senior in my Spanish class. The kiss felt like nothing—just a closed-mouth brush of skin—but I rode on the high of being desired for the whole night and into the next day, when he asked me out over text. I felt suffocated. He was always texting, always wanting to hold hands, and I couldn't match the intensity. I didn't like him so much as the idea of him—and he deserved better than that. When I finally admitted how I felt to a friend, who promptly told him, we called it off—and I felt mostly relieved. Since then, dating has never felt like a priority for me. I've always felt removed from the world of couplings and romantic relationships. It's not like romance repulses me—I mainline romantic TV shows and K-dramas, and root for my favorite celebrity couples as much as the next fangirl—but I've never understood why anyone would feel that they need to date or have a partner. I watch those scenes where the heroine is like, 'I just have to be with this person,' and my brain instantly goes, or… you could just not. Sometimes, when I'm giving a friend advice as they spiral over a bad relationship, I wonder if some part of my brain is on an 'off' setting. Like maybe once I meet The One, a switch will flip and I'll morph into someone who'd willingly apply to Love Is Blind and rearrange their whole life around someone else's texting habits. (Respect to y'all. But that is not my path.) Looking back on my most boy-crazy days, even then, I think what I longed for wasn't a boyfriend—it was a kind of unconditional love I hadn't yet learned to show myself. A decade later, I've built a life full of it. I have deep friendships, fulfilling work, a strong relationship with my family, and hobbies that energize me. I live a life full of love, just not including the red-heart, Hallmark variety. And that's not a deficit—it's a choice. It took a lot of introspection to take pride in that, since it goes against everything I've seen and heard since I was born. From the moment we arrive on this earth, people are taught that a romantic partner is all you need—the ultimate goal of life. Everything around us—from tax codes to Disney movies—tells us that finding 'the one' is not just desirable, but necessary. I'm lucky that my mom never pressured me to settle down; she only ever cared that I was fulfilled. But even without the grandkid nudges, society makes singleness feel like a waiting room for real life. Girls are taught that happily-ever-after is synonymous with married with children. That if a boy is mean, it must mean he likes you. That being chosen is the greatest validation of all. I don't need to chase after romantic love to seek fulfillment. I'm already surrounded by love. I give it freely. I receive it daily. The first time someone questioned whether I was asexual, I rejected it. I was 21, living in Brooklyn with a roommate who was always swiping and dating. One day, after telling me about her latest romantic conquest, she asked why I didn't date or hook up. When I said I just didn't really care to, she asked if I might be asexual. I was immediately defensive. I ranted to friends later: How dare she say that? But what I really meant was, What if she's right—and I'm broken? Years later, I finally picked up Ace: What Asexuality Reveals About Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex by Angela Chen. It had been sitting on my bookshelf, taunting me, for three years. When I finally read it, everything clicked. I fell down the rabbit hole—not just of asexuality, but of aromanticism, the experience of feeling little or no romantic attraction. That's when I started to understand that I fall on the aromantic spectrum. I currently identify as demisexual and grayromantic, which means I only experience romantic attraction in rare, specific circumstances—far less frequently than someone who is alloromantic. I also came across a word that explained so much of my unease: amatonormativity. Coined by philosopher Elizabeth Brake, it's the assumption that everyone wants a romantic, monogamous partnership, and that any life without it is incomplete. Seriously, try to name ten shows or movies that don't include romance whatsoever. Even daily interactions reinforce it. Try buying a car or booking a plumber without being asked, 'Does your husband know about this?' Ask someone not to comment on your love life and it's treated like asking them not to breathe. Why is 'wife and mother' still framed as the natural endpoint of womanhood? There's a reason for that. Romantic coupling, especially heterosexual marriage, is financially incentivized. Couples get to share the cost of living. Recent declining fertility rates in both the U.S. and worldwide have spurred governments to offer perks for procreation, but even before that, financial and social advantages for married couples have always been embedded into American life, from tax breaks to easier loans. While couples get to share all the household costs that can be exorbitantly expensive for solo living, solo renters pay what's known as the 'singles tax'—an average of $14,000 more per year just for living alone in cities like New York. Even airlines are charging solo travelers more. And that's before you factor in the social messaging that being alone is inherently sad. That anyone without a partner must be searching for one. It's funny that I was first confronted with my difference in 2016, when we were just on the precipice of a rise in conservatism that demonizes anyone who doesn't fit into the hetero lifestyle, depending on who they are or who they love or what type of love they feel. View Deal In the years since, I've had to reckon with every way I am marginalized: as woman, as Black, as fat, as queer. In a way it has been liberating: I've always felt that something was wrong with me because I don't fit into what society wants me to be. I am bigger than what the bigots can imagine, and I don't have to follow their script. For the past year, I've been building my life outside of 'should'—and it has made me feel like Wonder Woman. Not all the time; if you've read my work carefully, you'll know that I still spiral plenty. But I'm no longer waiting for a mythical someone to make my life whole. Sure, since I fall on the 'little' side of 'little to no romantic attraction,' it could happen one day, but I don't need to chase after romantic love to seek fulfillment. I'm already surrounded by love. I give it freely. I receive it daily. There's a radical power in choosing your people. It's the one source of power I don't overthink (mostly because I am entirely too crowd-anxious to start a cult). In showing up for your chosen family, day after day, without the promise of a wedding or shared lease. In building a community rooted in communication, not convention. I love that I put the energy into showing my mom the appreciation she deserves, and that I work to sustain friendships even when the people I love most live hundreds of miles from me. I'm excited for the future—the queerplatonic partnerships I'll build, the friendships I'll deepen. To break out of my quiet-gay comfort zone and meet new people who think the same way, to form deep relationships that thrive on shutting out norms and shoulds. And I love that every time I say no to a system that insists I should want more, I'm saying yes to myself. After all, who else can I be?
Washington Post
21-05-2025
- Sport
- Washington Post
Madisyn Williamson powers Huntingtown softball back to the title game
Madisyn Williamson is no stranger to delivering clutch hits for the Huntingtown softball team. Just a sophomore, the Hurricanes' catcher has put together an impressive résumé for the Maryland Class 2A contenders — including a towering home run as a freshman in last year's state title game that she fondly remembers as her favorite.
