Father/Daughter relationship

When I was a small child, my father was the apple of my eye.  His bricklaying trade often meant getting up in (what felt like to me anyway) the wee hours of the morning and driving or often catching a train into the city to get to the job site.  So I would get up just to say goodbye to him as he left for work and I always felt a tinge of sadness.

As I grew older, Dad became quite the antagonist and he knew how to irritate me.  He was (still is) a sore loser and would cheat at all manner of games, whether we were playing cards or backyard cricket.  He also knew that I was ultra sensitive and would often know the right thing to say to set me off in a tirade or a bout of tears.  I always got over it eventually, but one particular incident has been etched in my mind and it hurts so much to remember.

I was in my early teens, maybe I was 13 or 14 years old.  I was definitely in high school and went to the same school as one of my cousins who is the same age as me so we sometimes had the same classes.  Anyway, one day Dad phoned his brother and my cousin, I'll call her P, answered the phone.  P was telling my father something wonderful and exciting and while I was sitting only a few metres away, I could tell that my father was quite animated and interested in whatever it was P was telling him.  I have never ever forgotten the way Dad looked over at me while he was listening to and praising P.  He gave me a sneering, scorning look that gouged out a part of my heart.  Until that moment, I had always believed he loved me unconditionally but I realised at that moment I was a shame and a disappointment to him.  The relationship between my father and I hardened from that day on.  As I grew older I resented every cruel word and taunt because I knew that he would forever compare me to P and no matter what I did in my life as I grew up, it was never good enough. 

When I was about 17 years old, he offered to pay for a gym membership because he wanted me to lose weight.  So I went a few times but I lost interest, I didn't understand that it would take so long to see results, I becamed disheartened when the scales weren't moving.  I remember seeing a jacket I liked when I was out shopping once, and Dad offered to buy it for me as long as I promised to lose weight and I agreed.  He was bribing me to do it, that is how ashamed he was of me.  I hate that jacket, I gave it back to him a few years later (an LA Raiders bomber jacket) and now he wears it occasionally so I am reminded of that pain whenever I see him wearing it.

I felt so much shame about my body that I became a sneak eater.  Whenever Dad was home, I would take whatever junk I wanted to eat into my bedroom and I would shut the door so I could eat in private.  Dad had scoffed sarcastically at me one day while I was sitting on the sofa watching the TV and eating a packet of Twisties.  If I was at home alone I would eat out in the lounge room but if Dad walked through the front door and I hadn't heard him coming I would stuff whatever food I was eating down the side of the sofa until he was out of the room, then I'd pull the food out and take it to my room to finish off.

I moved out of home in my early 20's, by this time I had joined WW and had lost around 16kg.  It's really sad to think that the only time in my whole life that I can ever truly recall Dad being proud of me was when I lost weight.  Losing weight made him happy and he would praise me, anything else was a non-event, oh hang on, I lie - he was really animated the day I bought my first car, lucky me.  When I wanted to buy my first home in 2001, he didn't want me to buy it.  I went against his advice, followed my heart and bought the house.  Well, he loved it.  Then when I decided to sell the house, he told me not to sell it.  So either way, I couldn't win!  However, I did get a smug sense of satisfaction because I sold it for a nice healthy profit.

Ever since that day when he was praising P while giving me the scornful look, I have always compared myself to P.  She is the epitome of perfection in my father's eyes - high achieving, popular, a petite blonde, and now she is married with children and living in a palatial home in a beautiful rural area.  Everything that I am not or have not achieved.  My father has no idea how much of an impact his cruel look has had on me since that day, he won't admit he was wrong to do it.  I confronted him about it years ago and got the usual sarcastic "What are you talking about?" response, he flatly denied it to my face.  But when Mum spoke to him about it in private, he tried to justify his behaviour by saying that he was only trying to "encourage" me.

I have been to a few counsellors to try to get to the bottom of my issues with Dad but none of them seem to understand or try to help me through it.  One counsellor tried to fob it all off as being "his issues" because of Dad's insecurities, and okay she might be right, they are his issues but he has projected them onto me unjustly and caused me so much pain.  Why can't my father just accept me as I am?  I understand why Dad behaves the way he does, it all stems back to his childhood when he was sexually abused by an adult. Since then, he has been trying to take back the control he lost, and he has tried to control Mum (sadly, she puts up with it) and he has tried to control my brother and I. I just can't fathom how being cruel to a young girl is meant to encourage her to take care of herself better. How hard is it to admit that he was wrong and that he hurt me and he is sorry?

So perhaps my excess weight is

• some kind of protective padding against my father's scornful face and vicious barbs.  My defences are always up whenever he is around, the smallest little comment can send me off into a tailspin. 
• a form of self-punishment for failing to be the perfect daughter
• (fill in the blank)?