76-yеаr-оld Саndiсе Веrgеn, sаys shе is hаррy bеing ‘fаt’ bесаusе shе ‘livеs tо еаt’

Candice Bergen is a television screen staple. The actress has been in multiple shows and movies over the years, and has earned a solid reputation for herself!

And when critics come to silence her, she shows that she is someone who will not be messed with! She really is someone who lives life on her own terms.

Candice Bergen started off her career as a model, working for magazines likе Vogue. Since then her career has sky-rocketed and she has become a household name. Her role in the show “Murphy Brown” led her to five Emmy wins.

But her iconic role came to her with a few hardships involved. In an interview, she revealed that the role was meant for a younger actress, namely Heather Locklear.

circa 1967: American actor and model Candice Bergen. (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)

But her audition caught the writer and producer Diane English’s eye who insisted that she was the one for the role.

The show and her role were a huge hit and women all across the country adored her portrayal of a reported. Bergen fondly recalls, “That character gave me permission to be my brattiest, bawdiest self.”

She was nominated for seven Emmys for the role and won five of them. But apparently, after her fifth win, she asked not to be considered for an Emmy again.

The reason for this was because of how the actress’ priorities changed and she decided to live her life differently. In her Memoir “A Fine Romance,” she revealed that she was more focused on herself, talking about how she did not care if she was ‘fat’ because she loved to eat!

She talked candidly in the book about her relationship with food, revealed that in the last 15 years, she has gained about 30 pounds but does not care about it.

She plainly in the book, “Let me just come right out and say it: I am fat. I live to eat. None of this ‘eats to live’ stuff for me.”

She also shаrеd stories of her enjoying decadent meals at dinner parties with her husband, and getting smug looks from other dinner guests but that she pays no mind to them. She wrote, “I am a champion eater. No carb is safe — no fat, either.”

She went on to talk about how women in their 50s are so caught up with trying to maintain their youth that they often forget to enjoy their current selves. She has opted out of trying to maintain her youthful looks or figure, and is very much enjoying her decision to do so.

While her friends focus on their diets, Bergen is clear that she focused on food. She wrote, “dieting is out of my purview. I crave cookies, all the things that dilate my pupils.”

She talked of women she knows who ‘vomit’ out their meals after eating them to maintain their figures, strongly saying that she would never do such a practice.

She wrote, “They maintain their weight by routinely vomiting after major meals consisting of a slice of steak or a filet of fish. I am incapable of this.”

Now the actress is in the second stage of her life, as a mother and grandmother. Her first marriage to French director Louis Malle lasted 15 years, ending upon his dеаth from cancer in 1995. She had her daughter Chloe Malle from that union.

She married Marshal Rose in the 2000s, her second marriage which is still going successfully.

She is now also a grandmother to her daughter’s children. Her grandson Arthur Louis Albert was born in 2020, and her granddaughter, Alice Malle Albert, followed in April 2022.

The actress has publicly talked about the excitement she feels for her daughter on becoming a mother, she said of her daughter, “She is the love of my life.”

She shаrеs sweet moments from her life on social media, and the actress is clearly smitten with being a grandmother to two toddlers.

I Overheard My Daughter Saying ‘My Mom Has No Life Anyway, She’ll Have No Choice But to Babysit on Valentine’s Day’

As a single mom, I gave up my time, dreams, and everything for my daughter. But my heart broke when I overheard her laughing: “My mom has no life anyway. She’ll have no choice but to babysit on Valentine’s Day.” That’s when I decided — if she thought I had no life, I was about to show her otherwise.

Do I not deserve to have a life because I’m 45, a single mom, and a grandmother?

I never thought I’d be one this young. I had Miranda when I was 26. I worked hard and raised her right. But when she got pregnant at 18 and her boyfriend vanished into thin air, I stepped up. What else was I supposed to do? Let my daughter sink?

A distressed senior woman | Source: Midjourney

A distressed senior woman | Source: Midjourney

I still remember the night she told me she was pregnant. I held her as she sobbed into my shoulder. “I’m so scared, Mom,” she whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” I promised, stroking her hair. “You’re not alone.”

And I meant every word.

I worked late shifts so she could attend college. Gave up my weekends so she could still feel like a normal teenager, going out with her friends. I told myself, “She’s young. She deserves a little freedom. I’ll help until she gets on her feet.”

A senior woman with a baby | Source: Midjourney

A senior woman with a baby | Source: Midjourney

But then I overheard something that shattered me… something that made me realize my daughter had mistaken my love for obligation. The words that broke me… God, I hope no mother ever hears them.

It was the Monday before Valentine’s Day. I had just gotten home from work, exhausted, my feet throbbing and my back screaming. I was about to head to my room when I heard Miranda’s voice drifting down the hall.

I wasn’t eavesdropping until I heard my own name.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she giggled into the phone. “My mom has no life anyway. She’ll have no choice but to babysit on Valentine’s Day.”

I stopped dead in my tracks.

A young woman laughing while talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

A young woman laughing while talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

She kept going.

“She told me some dumb story about having a date with her coworker, but come on… her priority is MY DAUGHTER. She won’t actually go. I’ll just make her cancel, like always.”

Then she LAUGHED. Like my canceled plans, my sacrifices, and my entire damn existence was just some JOKE to her.

I pressed my hand against the wall to steady myself, memories flooding back. The promotion I turned down because it would mean less flexibility for babysitting. The countless nights I’d spent rocking Kelly to sleep while Miranda was out “studying.” The dating profiles I’d deleted because I never had time to actually meet anyone.

Something inside me snapped. She needed to learn that being a mother didn’t mean she got a free pass to dump her responsibilities on me. If she thought I’d just keep picking up the slack forever, she had another thing coming.

A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney

A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney

That night, she waltzed into my room, all sugar and innocence.

“Mom, I know you had that date, but I have this really special night planned for Valentine’s Day with my boyfriend, Matt. You’ll babysit, right?”

She batted her lashes. Smiled. Like I was some unpaid employee she could charm into another shift.

My hands trembled as I folded laundry, thinking of David from accounting. He’d been so genuine when he asked me out, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Everyone deserves a second chance at happiness,” he said.

I smiled right back at Miranda. “Of course, sweetheart. Anything for you.”

She beamed. Hugged me. Told me I was “the best.”

She had no idea what was coming.

A young woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

A young woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

Valentine’s Day arrived, and Miranda practically skipped out the door. She was glowing, her little red dress hugging her figure, and her hair straightened to perfection. She barely glanced at me as she grabbed her purse.

“Kelly’s already asleep,” she said breezily. “Should be an easy night. Love you, Mom!”

She didn’t wait for a response. Didn’t check if I was okay. Because in her mind I was exactly where she expected me to be — home, in my pajamas, and babysitting her child like always.

I looked at myself in the mirror, touching the slight wrinkles around my eyes. When had I started looking so tired? And resigned? The woman staring back at me wasn’t just a grandmother or a mother… she was someone who deserved more.

A heartbroken woman holding a mirror | Source: Midjourney

A heartbroken woman holding a mirror | Source: Midjourney

Thirty minutes later, I walked into the dimly lit restaurant with Kelly on my hip.

Miranda had been gushing about this fancy new restaurant all week, dropping the name like it was some exclusive VIP event. She never imagined I’d actually show up.

The hostess barely had time to greet me before I spotted them — Miranda, all dolled up, and across from her, some twenty-something guy with styled hair and a crisp button-down.

I marched straight up to their table. Miranda’s eyes widened.

“Mom?! What are you —”

I set Kelly in her lap.

A startled woman in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

A startled woman in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

“At first, I was going to babysit,” I said sweetly. “But then I thought… what better way to test your relationship than to see how Matt handles real life? After all, if he’s serious about dating a single mom, he should be okay spending the night with both of you.”

Miranda’s face turned beet red.

Matt blinked. “Uh… what?”

I turned to him with a sympathetic smile.

“Oh, she didn’t tell you she has a baby? That’s odd. Considering she told me she’d make me cancel my plans for her hot date.”

Dead silence.

Kelly let out a tiny coo, oblivious to the chaos she had just been dropped into.

A stunned young man in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

A stunned young man in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

I patted Miranda’s shoulder. “Enjoy your night, sweetheart. Don’t wait up.”

And with that, I walked out, my heart pounding but my head held high.

When I got home, I barely had time to kick off my shoes before the front door slammed.

“MOM!” Miranda’s voice was shrill. “HOW COULD YOU DO THAT? YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!”

I turned slowly, crossing my arms. “You mean YOU ruined everything.”

Her mouth snapped shut.

“You heard me,” she whispered.

“Oh, I heard EVERY WORD you uttered, Miranda.”

An angry senior woman pointing her finger at someone | Source: Midjourney

An angry senior woman pointing her finger at someone | Source: Midjourney

She looked away, her cheeks burning. “Mom, I didn’t mean it like that —”

I let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, you meant exactly what you said. And tonight, you got to experience what happens when you assume I’ll ALWAYS be there.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line.”You don’t understand —”

“No, YOU don’t understand. Do you know how many nights I’ve sat alone in this house, wondering where my life went? How many times I’ve cried myself to sleep because I feel invisible? I have a life, Miranda. I deserve happiness too. And you? You don’t get to treat me like a built-in babysitter just because you had a baby young.”

A guilty woman with her eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney

A guilty woman with her eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney

Tears welled in her eyes, but she stayed quiet.

“Go to bed,” I muttered. “You need to start thinking about how you’ll do better.”

She swallowed hard. “Mom, I —”

“Not tonight, Miranda.”

And for the first time in years, I put myself first. The next morning, I sat at the kitchen table, sipping my coffee. Miranda shuffled in, her eyes puffy. She didn’t speak as she poured herself a cup.

A woman drinking a cup of coffee | Source: Midjourney

A woman drinking a cup of coffee | Source: Midjourney

I let the silence stretch before I finally said, “There are going to be some changes.”

She stilled.

“Your daughter is YOUR responsibility. I will help… but I will not be manipulated into canceling my life for you.”

She nodded slowly.

“I am NOT your automatic babysitter. If you need me, you ASK… not assume.”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed.

“And if you ever talk about me like that again,” I said, voice low, “you’ll be on your own.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks. “I get it.”

“I really hope you do.”

Portrait of a sad woman | Source: Midjourney

Portrait of a sad woman | Source: Midjourney

She sniffled. “I… I’m sorry, Mom. I never meant to make you feel… invisible.” She wiped her eyes. “When Dad left us, you were so strong. You never broke. You were always there. I guess… I started taking that strength for granted.”

I softened. “I know. But sorry isn’t enough. You need to show me.”

She gave a small nod. And for the first time, I saw it. The realization. The shift. She finally understood.

For years, I let myself be used because I thought that’s what a GOOD mother did. But you know what? A good mother teaches her child that respect goes both ways.And a great mother knows when to let her child learn the hard way.

You don’t mess with your mother just because she’s your mother. A mother isn’t just an endless well of sacrifices. She’s a person too. And I’ll be damned if I ever let my daughter forget it again.

A stern-looking woman with her arms crossed | Source: Midjourney

A stern-looking woman with her arms crossed | Source: Midjourney

A week later, I watched from my kitchen window as Miranda struggled to load Kelly’s stroller into her car. In the past, I would have rushed out immediately, taken the baby, and solved everything.

Instead, I stirred my coffee and stayed where I was.

“Mom?” Her voice drifted through the open window, a hint of desperation creeping in. “Could you…maybe…”

I waited.

She took a deep breath. “Would you please help me? I have a job interview, and Kelly’s being impossible, and I know it’s last minute, but —”

I considered her request carefully, thinking about my own plans for the day. The boundaries I’d set weren’t just for show, they were for both of us.

A baby in a stroller | Source: Pexels

A baby in a stroller | Source: Pexels

“What time is your interview?” I asked.

“Eleven. It would only be for two hours, maximum.”

“I can watch her from eleven to one,” I said finally. “But I have plans at two, so you’ll need to be back.”

The relief on her face was instant. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I mean it.”

Later that afternoon, I was getting ready for my date with David when Miranda came home. She lingered in my doorway, watching me apply lipstick.

“How did the interview go?” I asked, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

“I think… I think I got it.” She ran a hand through her hair, the exhaustion evident. “It’s at that accounting firm downtown. The one with the onsite daycare.”

An overwhelmed woman | Source: Midjourney

An overwhelmed woman | Source: Midjourney

I nodded, carefully blotting my lips. “Smart thinking.”

“I’ve been looking into backup daycare options too,” she added quickly, like she was trying to prove something. “And I made a schedule for Kelly’s routine. So… so you don’t have to always be the backup plan.”

The old me would have jumped in with offers to help and reassurances that I’d always be there. Instead, I simply said, “That’s good planning, Miranda.”

She shifted uncomfortably in the silence that followed. “You look nice,” she finally said. “Are you seeing David again?”

“Yes.”

“Is it… is it serious?”

I turned to face her. “Would it matter if it was?”

An annoyed woman staring at someone | Source: Midjourney

An annoyed woman staring at someone | Source: Midjourney

She flinched slightly, and I saw the struggle in her eyes and the desire to fall back into old patterns and to make me feel guilty for having a life outside of her and Kelly.

“I —” she started, then stopped. Swallowed. Started again. “I’m trying to be happy for you, Mom. I really am. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“It’s scary. Knowing I can’t always count on you being here.”

“You can count on me being your mother,” I said firmly. “But not on me giving up my life. There’s a difference.”

She nodded slowly, tears gathering in her eyes.

An upset young woman | Source: Midjourney

An upset young woman | Source: Midjourney

The restaurant was busy when I arrived, but David had already gotten us a table. As I sat down across from him, I noticed a couple at the next table over — a young mother with a baby, trying desperately to have a conversation with her date while juggling a fussy infant.

The scene was painfully familiar.

“Everything okay?” David asked, noticing my distraction.

I smiled, turning back to him. “Just thinking about how life changes. How we change.”

“Good changes?”

I thought about Miranda, about how she was finally facing the reality of being a young single mother instead of pushing everything onto me. And about how sometimes she still slipped into expecting me to drop everything for her, and how I was learning to stay firm even when it hurt.

A senior man in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

A senior man in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

“Necessary changes,” I answered. “The kind that hurt at first but make you stronger.”

He reached across the table, taking my hand. “You know what I admire about you? Your courage to start over. To demand respect. Not everyone can do that.”

I squeezed his hand, thinking about all the women out there — mothers, grandmothers, and caregivers — who had lost themselves in the act of loving others.

“Sometimes,” I said softly, “the bravest thing we can do is remember who we are. Not just who we are to other people, but who we are to ourselves.”

A heartbroken but confident woman | Source: Midjourney

A heartbroken but confident woman | Source: Midjourney

Life isn’t a fairy tale. Because here’s the truth about mothers and daughters: we’re always growing, always learning, and always finding new ways to love each other. Sometimes that love looks like holding on. Sometimes it looks like letting go.

And sometimes, it looks like standing in your own truth and saying: “I am more than what you need me to be. I am a woman with dreams, desires, and a life of my own.”

And that doesn’t make me less of a mother. It makes me more of myself.

And in the end, that’s the greatest gift I could give to my daughter — showing her that a woman’s worth isn’t measured by how much she sacrifices. It’s measured by how truly she lives.

A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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