My husband and I just watched an Oprah show about being the only fat person in your family. I cried through the whole thing because it hit so close to home. I used to be very thin - dangerously thin actually - in high school, though I was a chubby child. But around age 22 I started gaining and it just hasn't stopped. I can blame it on meds or lack of self-control but so much of it points directly at my family. When studying BPD I couldn't relate to the stories of abuse but then my husband pointed out that by my brothers and dad constantly harping on fat people and/or fat me, that was abuse. What they said to me when I was a child lives in my mind forever. I am so hurt by those words even to this day. I have since confronted one brother and he has apologized but it doesn't make this lasting pain any easier. Now my mom nudges a little saying she worried about my health and happiness, which is damaged because of my weight. I know she doesn't care that I am fat - that she just wants me to be happy and being fat makes me suicidally sad. But why didn't she stand up for me when they were all heaving insults in my direction on a daily basis for years? My sister did. But I needed my mom. All that time I thought my mom was my hero for not ever mentioning my weight but now I realize that by not saying a word, she let them kill a part of me that would never live again.