Overweight Children

May 17, 2009 - 11:24 PM

I was sitting at Prince Puckler's this evening, waiting for my friends, when I saw a family eating ice cream cones at a table on the sidewalk. At the table were two little girls, and the older one had a significant problem with weight.

At first, it was hard for me to curb my judgmental tendencies, but as I sat and watched this little girl eat her waffle cone, I was taken back to the years of my childhood, when I, too, had cellulite as a third grader. My chins also jumbled beneath my face when I tried fruitlessly to scoot my chair in, and my skorts became lodged between my overlapping thighs.

As I sat there and watched, the discomfort of holding all of that excess flesh around my body all day flooded back to me. I remembered sitting in a classroom and not fitting in the chairs like the other kids did. I remembered feeling different than the other girls, especially when they wouldn't allow me to be friends with them.

I looked at this little girl and felt so terrible for the pain that I knew she would endure, if she hadn't already begun to experience it. For a moment, I realized that she was smiling as she walked in circles around a flower bed. She seemed happy to be there and didn't seem to notice the swarm of people at the ice cream shop. She was just being herself, unconcerned about the people's disapproving eyes. She played with her sister, and when she passed people, she paid them no mind, her intention was simply to continue on her imagination's direction for a moment.

But I wondered to myself when she would begin to notice the disapproving eyes, when she would become conscious of the effects of carrying extra weight. I wondered what it was like for her to be in school with the other kids and if she was able to be herself when she was with them. I wondered what it would take for her to trim down. I looked at her mother, who also had a bit of a weight problem. I looked at her sister, who hadn't become large yet, but was certainly heading that way. The little girl didn't seem to notice; her mind was elsewhere, thank God.

It all came back to me. Feeling normal, feeling free, feeling like a person, until one day, people's horrible comments seeped into my daily consciousness. I have never been the same since I realized that my weight was such a serious issue, both medically and socially. As I stared shamelessly at the little girl, I began to fear for my children. I wonder if I have gained enough tools to prevent this devastating condition from affecting the one's that I love.

How can I let them know that the person who gets lost in their imaginations, who doesn't pay attention to the judgments of other people is a beautiful, wonderful person while emphasizing the necessity of health and fitness?