Coming from a migrant family, and developing an eating disorder

By Laura Smolcic, Clinical Psychologist

“I was 11 years old the first time I learned that my body was a problem.”

Don’t get me wrong, I loved my family growing up. I had loving and well -meaning parents. But…

I was 11 years old the first time I learned that my body was a problem.Not because a doctor said so—he didn’t. Not because my body was unhealthy—it wasn’t. But because I was put on a diet.

Looking back now, as a clinical psychologist who specialises in eating disorders, I can see how early body shame, cultural beliefs, and well‑intentioned parenting collided to create the perfect conditions for body image dissatisfaction and disordered eating.

Growing up between cultures

Growing up, I was called a “wog.” My parents migrated from Italy in the 1950s and I am a first‑generation Australian. While this word may be considered offensive now, in the 1980s and 1990s it was commonly used, often with a mix of fondness and pride within my community.

Being a first‑generation Australian gave me my first opportunity to work as a professional actor in a theatre production about typical Italian families. It was funny and joyful. It opened more opportunities, including acting work in a theatre restaurant—but the last time I stood on stage, I was still in the midst of an eating disorder.

Today, I write as a clinical psychologist, an eating‑disorder‑credentialed clinician, and someone with lived experience of an eating disorder. Although I have recovered, I often reflect on how cultural background can influence the development of disordered eating and body image concerns.

Eating disorders are never really about food

One thing I’ve learned in almost 20 years of working in this space is that eating disorders are never really about the food.

They usually begin with deep body dissatisfaction and a powerful desire to achieve the “ideal” body, weight, or shape. Much of my work involves helping clients understand where this dissatisfaction comes from. I often explore childhood experiences and parenting styles using Schema Therapy—and this has also led me to reflect on my own upbringing.

Being raised in a European household came with many disordered eating messages—some almost humorous, and others deeply painful.

Scarcity, guilt, and food

As a child, I had to finish everything on my plate. Leaving food was considered “bad.” We were told to think about the people in the world who didn’t have food.

This mindset came from scarcity—common among those who grew up during war and poverty. Food was precious and wasting it was shameful.

Even if I was full, I had to keep eating. If I didn’t, I felt guilty. I knew my mother had spent hours preparing the meal, and I was made acutely aware of how “lucky” I was. This is what we call guilt‑inducing parenting, and in my clinical work I’ve seen how common it is, particularly in European families.

Learning to distrust my body

The greatest damage to my self‑worth and body image occurred when I was 11 years old and put on a diet. It was the 1980s and Weight Watchers was widely seen as a healthy approach.

During this time, many European homes, had messages that were very ‘black and white’: you were either good or bad, healthy or unhealthy, right or wrong. There was no middle ground. Being in a bigger body was framed as shameful and these wrong beliefs still underpin much of the weight stigma we see today.

At school, I felt different—because of my Italian background and my body. PE classes, particularly gymnastics sessions, were humiliating. Many people I work with share similar experiences of having felt shame around movement and exercise.

At 11, I attended Weight Watchers meetings where I was weighed in a group setting. I can’t imagine a child going through that now, and I hope it never happens again.

From dieting to disordered eating

Although a doctor reassured my parents that my weight was “puppy fat,” I was still put on a diet. As predicted, my body changed as I grew taller—but the belief that my worth depended on my weight never left.

Dieting became a constant. By my late teens, I had developed disordered eating, and looking back, I would now diagnose myself as having an eating disorder.

In migrant families, eating disorders were poorly understood—and in many families, they still are. I was simply told to “eat more,” without anyone recognising the psychological struggle underneath. I also did not understand that struggle. How could I, when diet culture promoted (and still promotes) this thin ideal as being a good thing?

Breaking the cycle

As I recovered, grew older, and became a mother, I noticed similar patterns in other European families. Food was abundant and lovingly prepared, with an expectation to eat it. At the same time, there was judgement toward family members in larger bodies.

When we started our own family, we made a conscious decision to raise our children in a body‑neutral, non body‑shaming environment. We don’t comment on bodies. Instead, we focus on teaching our children how to care for and nourish themselves with respect.

Making peace with the body

I have made peace with my body, though echoes of the past-the old messages still surface. When they do, I speak gently to my inner child—my 11‑year‑old self—and remind her that she is worthy, she is enough, and deserving of kindness, regardless of how her body looks.

And no, she does not have to finish everything on her plate.

This compassion has been healing for me, and for the many people I’ve supported over the years.

💛 Want support with body image?

Follow me on @laurathepsychologist Visit thepsychologyandtherapyclinic.com

You can also access my free webinar: How to Stop Comparing Your Body,or explore my mini‑program How to Stop Overeating.