Cuckow - The Body Effect

C opyright 2021 by Dawn Cuckow

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Although the author and publisher have made every effort to ensure that the information in this book was correct at press time, the author and publisher do not assume and hereby disclaim any liability to any party for any loss, damage or disruption caused by errors or omissions, whether such errors or omissions result from negligence, accident or any other cause.

The resources in this book are provided for informational purposes only and should not be used to replace the specialised training and professional judgment of a health care or mental health care professional. If you are on medication, discuss making dietary changes with your healthcare provider first. Please always consult a trained professional before making any decision regarding treatment of yourself or others.

Where there are variants in UK and US English, this book opted for UK spelling.

The stories are true-life experiences, but some of the details are altered for protection of privacy. For the same reason, some characters are a composite of people.

ISBN: 978-1-7397554-0-9

Publisher: Green Tangerine Press, info@greentangerinepress.com

Cover designer: Barry Davies Design, barrydavies3@icloud.com

Editor: Margaret A. Harrell, https://margaretharrell.com

F rom participants of the authors three-month weight-loss course.

W e all have our own unique stories around our eating. Here is mine...

My first experience of nourishment was not a happy one. I was fed by a tube down my nose. The nurses had to put mittens on my hands to stop me pulling it out.

I came into this world prematurely, weighing just 3 pounds 10 ounces. Whilst I was taken to the incubator, my mum was rushed off to emergency care with serious pre-eclampsia. She didnt see me until I was a week old and didnt get to hold me for several weeks. My mum had desperately wanted to breastfeed me, but couldnt even express milk, as it would have been toxic.

Finally, I reached five pounds at five weeks old and was released from hospital. My mum tells a story of how, when I was four months old, she looked after a neighbours baby, for a couple of days. Not liking having this baby in the house, I got very distressed every time my mum picked him up. It wasnt until he had gone and she carried me into every room in the house to show he wasnt there that the tension went out of my body. My mum was sure I felt she was going to abandon me again. Just like she had, through no choice of her own, when I was born.

I grew from an anxious baby into an anxious child. I dont remember it, but Im told that I didnt speak at school for the whole of my first term (September to December). On my brothers third birthday, when I was seven, we moved to the Caribbean. My brother was too young for school, but my sister and I attended the English school, which had just two classrooms and twelve children! Most of the time we ran around barefoot. On weekends we went sailing and had barbecues on the beach. Rain was so rare that wed put on our swimsuits and run out to play in it. Of course, the rain there was warm!

This all changed a few weeks after my tenth birthday. With the rest of my family still in Curaao, my mum took me to boarding school in England. I didnt see her or the rest of my family for three and a half months. Not great for a sensitive child who already had abandonment issues! It was a complete culture shock, not a child-friendly environment. We werent allowed toys, music, posters, plantsnot even a teddy or family photo. As it was run like a military training school, I became very efficient at hospital corners! (In case you are not familiar with hospital corners, you have to tuck the sheet under the mattress and fold the top half back at a forty-five-degree angle.) If our beds werent made to exacting standards, they would be stripped and we had to start over. To this day, I cant stand hospital corners.

Every Sunday morning, we had to eat two thin, dry crackers with milk or Ribena (a blackcurrant squash) so we wouldnt pass out in chapel. Only after the hour-long service did we get breakfast. Not being used to fresh milk or Ribena, I couldnt stand either. I used to surreptitiously pour mine down the sink. After breakfast it was time to write a letter home. (This was long before internet or mobile phones.) As the housemistress told us she read our letters before posting, we were always careful about what we said!