Friday, May 29, 2009

The World Didn't Stop . . For My Broken Heart.



Big came home from school the other day and called for the private meeting.




Perched on the edge of her bed with her bright brown eyes framed with the longest lashes God's given, she teared up and said the words every mom dreads .. . . "Am . . I . . fat?"




And my eyes filled up with tears.


And I swallowed the giant ball of phlegm that filled my throat.




And I heard myself speak and give the answer that I believe. I told her that she is perfect. I told her that we are all made differently. She asked about diets. We talked about healthy choices. She asked about scales. We talked about moving our bodies every day.




And she confided in me that a "friend" at school said she had a big butt.




And I wanted to gouge her friend's eyes out with serving spoons.




In the tender days since then, we've talked alot more. We've spent lots of time talking and walking (she's been tagging along with me on my walks.) Time is healing her heart.




But not mine.




It's left me more tender, more raw and more sensitive . . .for ME and HER than I ever could have started.




It's made me realize the impact and power of MY words when I say, "I feel fat."; "Nothing fits."; "Does this make my ass look big?"; "I'm disgusting."; "I feel like a heffer."; "I look like a hippo."




And wrapped in my sensitive shroud, I've become cognizant of the way we feel (rephrase: the way we allow ourselves to feel), when our "friends" say stupid shit to us. And let me rephrase that. Friends don't even have to say stupid shit TO us to have us beliveing the worst. Here is an example. My friend could say, "damn, girl, you look big as a house . . . . your ass is as wide as the broad side of a barn." This might be painful. It might suck. And it might hurt like hell. That same friend could drive a stake into my heart -- that would be a hell of a lot bigger that would last a hell of a lot longer -- by playing the "look at me" card and saying, "whoa, look at how big my pants are on me . . . I just can't seem to keep up with this weight loss . . I'm gonna need a whole new wardrobe!!"




Interesting, huh? That we don't have to say mean things to SAY MEAN THINGS.




Anyone want to 'weigh-in' on this one?






1 comment:

Homestead said...

She does not have a big butt and I will personally call her teacher to bail her out of detention when she tells her "friend" to "Go get buggared."

I suppose me telling you I have a hard time keeping my pants on isn't encouraging, is it? But it's because I have this giant baby belly pushing them down.... (Hah. You thought I was going to blame it on that gorgeous husband of mine, didn't you??)

I think it is always important to consider the message we are sending our kids and I will rely on you to remind me of that as my little girls get to be bigger girls. I dread it.

And it never makes me feel better to realize the "look at me" woman is really just a catty, no-confidence, low-grade fat girl hiding behind a number on a scale. I have a hard time feeling sorry for her.