“Mr. Dover thinks I’m fat.” Charlotte cried down the hallway, slamming her bedroom door. She let out a frustrating moan. “He gave me an 8th grade boys cummerbund.”
Her mom opened the bedroom door and peaked inside. “May I come in?”
Charlotte buried her face into a ruffled pillow, flattening her body against the bed.
“You’re not fat.”
“Yes, I am. I’m not the size of the other 6th grade girls. I’m fat.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Mom, Tommy said I was fat, those were his words, then Mr. Dover gives me a boys cummerbund for the chorus recital. He even thinks I’m fat.”
“Sit up, please.”
Charlotte pushed her small body away from the bed and sat next to her mom. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
And that’s how the lies begin, small at first, then magnified unless we stop them.
And the conversation begins . . . in 6th grade.
Girls bloom in stages, some early, some later. And it’s okay. By the time we reach 10th grade, we balance out.
Boys will go through the same thing, so ignore Tommy. He will probably ask you on a date in high school. These things happen. True story.
Labels are terrible. Don’t let them stick. Especially now, you’re too young. Look in the mirror, you are beautiful.
Exactly the blooming flower God intended. Different. And just as beautiful.