When a Coach Called My Daughter’s Lunch “Unhealthy”

This summer my daughter attended a basketball camp at a very competitive university. She was excited. The drills, the facilities, the campus vibe and especially the fancy cafeteria. She was thrilled to have access to a buffet full of options and freedom to choose what she wanted. It's one of her favorite parts of this camp!

On day two, one of the coaches took a look at her tray and said, "You need to put some green things on your plate." Her teen self internally rolled her eyes and picked what she wanted anyway.

Then after completing half her lunch the coach took it a step further and told her what she was eating was unhealthy.

Here’s the part that made me want to simultaneously scream and high-five my kid: instead of shrinking, instead of feeling shame, she recognized the coach as the problem and not her food.

She didn’t internalize the message. She externalized it. She immediately texted to me for support and to vent.

She knew the comment was rooted in diet culture, not truth.

And that doesn’t happen by accident.

As parents of a now teen, I'd love nothing more than to put my kid in a bubble where she's shielded from diet talk, fatphobia, and harmful body comments (believe me I've tried). But the truth is, the older she got I realized, that bubble doesn’t exist. I found, from friends, to school to sports to social media, these messages are everywhere. The best chance I had at protecting my child wasn't shielding her, it’s equipping her. That means talking about what diet culture is. Naming fatphobia. Having honest conversations about how these beliefs show up, who they benefit, and why they’re harmful.

It started at home.

After I posted about this on our instagram last week, I got a flood of messages from parents asking me how I taught her to externalize this message. I received messages from parents whose children developed eating disorders, and for many, it started with a seemingly small comment from a coach about their food or body. That’s how quickly the damage can begin. Your questions got me thinking: what did I do differently that may have contributed to my daughter being able to externalize this message?

Here's What I Came Up With:

1. No Moralizing Food. In our house, we don’t moralize food. That means no talk of “good” or “bad” foods, no praise for “healthy” choices or shame around “unhealthy” ones. We don’t say things like “you have to eat this before you can have that.” Food is just food, it's not a measure of character, willpower, or worth. We actually talk about about how ALOT of people talk about food in this way and now she can actually call this out when she hears it.

2. Not Commenting on Bodies. We also don’t comment on bodies, not in a positive or negative way. We don’t celebrate weight loss or compliment someone for looking “good” because they’ve gotten smaller. We actually talk about being fat is okay, there is nothing wrong with it and it isn't a predictor of health. And we definitely don’t make negative comments when someone’s body changes or gains weight. Because all of that reinforces the idea that bodies are only worthy when they meet a certain standard and we’re not about that life.

3. Modeling Advocacy. I’ve modeled this in front of my daughter, too. If someone makes a comment about food or bodies in public, at the table, wherever I step in, I say something. If it's not appropriate to step in, we talk about it on our way home or later. She’s watched me do it enough times to know where we stand. I'm teaching her it's okay to stand up for herself and others.

4. Creating a Safe Validating Space. More importantly, I’ve worked hard to create a space where she feels safe coming to me when these things do happen. And let me tell you, they do happen. All. the. time. Comments from friends, teachers, coaches, strangers. So much so that I’ve realized she only brings it up to me when it’s really bad. When it hits a nerve or she’s trying to make sense of it. One thing I can tell you though is she knows if it's wrong I will definetly validate it for her. This coach’s comment? It was one of those moments. She needed to hear from me that what was said wasn’t just “annoying” or “misguided,” it was not okay. It was harmful.

It’s easy to brush these things off and say, “Oh, the coach was just looking out for their health.” But I’m here to tell you: that’s not what kids need to hear. What they need is someone to validate that the comment was harmful, and that the problem isn’t their plate. It’s the culture that taught that coach to say something in the first place.

They need to know it’s safe to externalize the shame and to see the comment for what it is, instead of taking it on as truth. That’s how we protect them. Not by pretending the world will change overnight, but by helping them recognize when the world gets it wrong.

Teaching kids to externalize toxic food and body talk means we model that behavior first. We name it. We call out the diet culture BS out loud, even (especially) when it shows up in “wellness” clothing. We read books that center body diversity. We fill their feeds with body-positive, weight-neutral, inclusive content.

This is how our kids learn that food is just food. That their bodies are not a problem to fix. That being strong, happy, and safe in their bodies matters more than pleasing a coach who’s stuck in a 1995 nutrition seminar.

We can’t shield our kids from every hurtful comment. But we can raise them with the confidence and awareness to know the difference between truth and toxic messaging.

Let’s keep calling it what it is.