I got a phone call last night from the 13-year-old girl that I mentor. She asked if we were still going school shopping tonight. I had told her last week that I'd take her to buy underwear. I confirmed. And then she put her mom on the phone.
It seems that they've already been shopping for the required school uniform: khakis and white or burgundy polo shirts. On a limited budget with a less than reliable vehicle, the family doesn't have many options for shopping. Wal-Mart. Family Dollar. Resale shops. And to make it even more difficult, my kid is super morbidly obese. Last winter when I bought jeans from The Avenue for her, they were a size 30W. And I'm pretty sure she's gained weight since then.
Her mom said that they found men's polos for her at Wal-Mart...but they were too small. Did I have any ideas? Sure. But her mom wouldn't want to hear them. Ideas like...why do you LET her spend her money on potato chips? Why do you LET her have three helpings of mashed potatoes? Why do you LET her drink regular soda?
I know, I know. I am not a parent. But I was a fat kid. And I give my mom credit for trying to steer me in the right nutritional direction. She didn't buy crap. We didn't live in the ghetto, but my parents struggled on a laborer's income for a family of 5. There wasn't a lot of money. And when there was, it didn't go to junk food.
My eating problems were because I came up with my own ways to eat through adolescence. And I had to work hard at coming up with food for my fixes. (A great big apology to the Ashbeck family for all the Twix candy bars I ate when I babysat every Sunday night. Sorry about those Twinkies, too.)
My kid is 13, weighs over 275 pounds and stands only 5'2". When she went to the fair last week, they wouldn't let her on the midway rides. I don't think she even gets how big she is. I know she didn't understand why she couldn't ride the fast rides. Sweetie, the bar wouldn't close. It sucks, I know, to be 13 and want to be like the other kids. And you're not.
So what's my responsibility? Can I make a difference? I see her for four hours every week. When she's with me, we try to eat healthier foods and make sensible choices. I've talked about being the fat person in a crowd. Maybe I need to show her my fat high school pictures and tell her the horror stories of humiliation. Can I scare her into changing?
And what do I do about her mother? I know it must be difficult to feed a household of 13 people on food stamps, WIC and limited income. But how about buying 4 pounds of bananas for $2 instead of a bag of Cheetos for $3? How about no more sugar drinks?
I just see the writing on the wall for my kid. It ain't pretty. I feel so helpless.
I CHOOSE
...to love myself.
...to treat myself gently, with patience and respect.
...to accept responsibility for every aspect of my life.
...to be present, awake, aware.
...to be open to possibility.
...to leap with the intention of landing.
...to do amazing things.
...to treat myself gently, with patience and respect.
...to accept responsibility for every aspect of my life.
...to be present, awake, aware.
...to be open to possibility.
...to leap with the intention of landing.
...to do amazing things.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
13 years old and F-A-T
Posted by JUST JEN at 8:13 AM
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
5 comments:
Oh, Jen. I feel helpless for you FOR her. But, if it makes you feel any "better" - consider my daughter - ten years old next month - 140 pounds, and we do Nearly Everything WE CAN to keep her from becoming the Fat Girl she already is. *sigh*
I answer questions with stories.
(thank you grandpa!)
So i worked at an orphanage in Usaka Zambia and my last project before returning to the states was to paint a mural on the side of the school we'd built. We ran out of paint. I waited six months, finally some came. it was brown, sent it back, waited another three months, it came. it was yellow. wrote strongly worded letter, I NEED BLUE PAINT BITCHES! back to UCOP office. long story short, the paint got there after i left. I never saw my project completed. someone came along, picked up a brush, filled in the last little pieces and boom, it was done.
this taught me a valuable lesson. Sometimes you don't get to see the fruits of your labor, but it doesn't mean the seeds aren't worth planting.
keep truckin. you really can't lose.
Hi Jen. I can relate to your story completely. My neice is very overweight and just has no concept of #1 how to dress her oversized body and #2 just how big she really is. She is so sensitive and I think back to when I was her age and that heavy how badly I would have reacted to someone like me coming and telling me what I already knew...I'm fat. After my RNY I am hoping she will see the differences in me and want to make the change. But like I've told my girlfriend who wants me to talk to her so badly...she will do it when and only when she is ready. There is nothing I can do to push her to being ready any quicker. So, I continue to be the good example that I should be and hope someday that example will mean something to her.
Wow. As I read this I feel for the kid, but angry with the Mom. I grew-up without much money either, but it's no excuse for the parents not navigating her in the right direction. But maybe they just don't know any better? Do any of them have weight problems? Do they show more concern for her weight, outside of finding clothes that fit?
I got goosebumps when you talked about finding ways. We didn't keep junk in our house, but man, somehow I always found a way to get my food.
I know you're not mentoring her for kudos, but I think what you're doing for her is amazing -- especially when sometimes it must feel like you're looking at a past image of yourself. I think this kind of thing takes a ton of strength.
You might have your challenges, but overall you are an amazingly strong woman.
Wow- Jenn , My heart goes out to you and her. I would share those HS pics and tell her your stories. Could you get her intersted in some activities that require her to move? Like Basketball/ walking?
I was a MO kid, teen and adult I just had RNY 1 month ago. I hate for anyone to repeat the nightmare that was my childhood at school.
Post a Comment