Entry 7 – Good Way to Be Gutted (No Pun Intended)

Last night, I found myself in a position no mother wants to be in. Comforting a wailing, full-body sobbing child with no readily discernable way to fix the problem.

I remember when I was young, being told multiple times I was fat. I started dieting in second grade because of it, and have had a love/hate relationship with food and my body ever since. I vowed I would do all in my power to make sure my daughter never went through the same.

Now, my daughter probably has 5 – 10 extra pounds. But she's not fat. She's study, but she's not fat. And no matter how much weight she loses – well, she's built like her mother. She ain't never gonna be a little thing. She's going to be broad-shouldered, broad-hipped and (unlike her mother) long-legged. Kid's got gorgeous legs, like a colt. But I digress.

Anyway, she's 5'2", 117 pounds. She wears a solid size 4 in clothes, size 9 in women's shoes. Oh, and she's not even 11 yet. Did I mention that?

A couple of week's ago, the mother of one of Anna's friends told me how much she liked Anna, because Anna was such a confident little girl with such a great self-esteem. If only she could see what the other kids have done to my girl's self esteem as of last night.

Yesterday evening, one of her friends (a teeny, tiny little thing, like most girls around) told Anna that her friends were calling her fat. Anna was shaken, and finally cracked. Apparently this has been happening at school regularly, too. She's never chosen for races because people assume she can't run. Kids poke her in the belly. (Are they expecting a Pillsbury Dough Boy laugh? Junior asshats.) Mama not happy.

Especially since at Anna's age, I was already wearing a women's size 16, and I was 2 inches shorter. Those kids don't know fat. Bastages.

Anyway, there she was, doing the same thing I used to do – sobbing in her mother's arms, wondering why kids can't just lay off and let her be her. Then veering into, "But NAME is my height, and wears a girls' size 14! Why am I so much bigger?" Well, honey, NAME is 1 ½ years older than you, is tall and thin and has very narrow shoulders and narrow hips, and has already been told by doctors she's not going to get much taller. You, however, are poised for basketball stardom (as long as you don't get your mother's grace).

But to a sobbing tweener, that just doesn't compute. Or matter. So all I could do was hold her, and tell her I knew exactly what she was going through, and that it sucks. I told her about the time one of the boys in class told me the school had to build a support structure under my desk so I wouldn't crash through the floor. Kids can just be mean little shits to each other, and you just have to grow past it, and not let it get to you. Not that I've necessarily done it successfully, but you know, I'm an adult now who thinks that for a big chick, I'm pretty hot. Just not all that healthy. Which is all you really should be concerned about – being healthy.

Why can't kids just jump past the cruelty? Why does this have to be a rite of passage? My daughter is beautiful, inside and out. The girl has more love in her heart to pass to the world than anyone I've ever known. Why can't the mean-spirited little hellions back the NFBSK off?

And I swear, if my kid ends up being anorexic or bulimic or a binge-eater over this shit, there will be hell to pay.