A Little Bit Fat


A voice message from the school nurse today went a little something like this "...something something height, weight and age ... your child's BMI indicates they are overweight and do you need any counseling on making healthy food choices ...". The tone of her voice gave me the impression that she didn't like making the call any more than I liked getting it. In retrospect, it's a good thing I didn't answer, because the snarky mother in me may have asked what her BMI was, and whether the school lunch menu's chocolate milk and honey buns constituted as a good food choice. 

She wasn't telling us anything we didn't know already. In the grand tradition of kids his age, things have started to fill out around the middle. Historic photographic evidence from the Owen family archives indicate that this was a fate my siblings and I all befell from about 3rd to 6th grade. Chubby cheeks peeking out from under prescription eyeglasses, XL t-shirts and bottoms from the husky section, and suddenly being too big for your Power Wheels Barbie Corvette (dammit).

Let's be real; childhood obesity is a big problem. We try hard as parents to encourage activity, make healthy meals and keep junk food for special occasions only, but ultimately, they are the masters of their own body. For example, we found out that after sending him to school after eating a healthy breakfast at home, he waltzed into the cafeteria and scored himself a second breakfast. Who knows how long that went on.

And there's also that whole "do as I say, not as I do" thing ... if anyone in our family needs to lead by example and show him how to make healthy choices, it's me. But how do I do that for him when I have struggled my whole life to do it for myself?

I was lucky enough to grow up with a supportive family that told me I was great and wonderful and beautiful no matter what. While that helped me grow up to be pretty secure in myself, well, let's just say I never made being active and eating healthfully a priority until I was well into my 20's. I don't want the same fate for my kids. At the end of the day, it's going to be up to him to control himself, and I just have to figure out a way to positively and effectively help him steer that ship. 

That school nurse can still kiss my grits though. :)


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