Thứ Bảy, 23 tháng 2, 2019

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This week she developed a rash (Monday night, Presidents Day). Obviously we couldn’t send her to school. We were sure it was an allergy but made a doctor’s appointment anyways just to be sure. We couldn’t get into her doctor appointment until the afternoon so we had fun playing dress up and taking photos during our day. I’m a professional photographer and we always have fun with creative sessions together.


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She asked me during this to shape and color her eyebrows. She’s very, very fair-skinned so they were fairly invisible. I told her I was only doing it because she asked. I told her in my eyes she was perfect just the way she was. She was thrilled, proclaiming with joy, ‘My eyebrows are visible!’ We both got a chuckle out of it. We had fun with our snowy photo shoot and hurried back to the house to snuggle under the covers and watch some TV together until it was time to go to the doctor later that afternoon.


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We get to the doctor and they told me she needed a physical, so they did a physical. They said she was 4’11” but their height chart was messed up and she’s actually 5-feet tall. She weighed in at 117 pounds. Smiling at me she said, ‘I grew some more!’ I smiled back and said, ‘I know! I’m you are taller than I am!”


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She’s very developed for an 11, almost 12-year-old. She has full C cups and is blessed with her mama’s fabulous booty. She has developed a woman’s body and is proud of who she is and how she looks. She has never really given it much thought other than trying to work out to be better at the sports that she loves. The doctor gave us a prescription for her rash (allergic reaction to something) and kind of breezed through her physical and didn’t even really finish it. Then leaves the room.


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He doesn’t even get the door shut all the way before he walks back in, and then like an avalanche of words – AND in front of her and her brothers – says, ‘We need to talk about her weight.’ He proceeds to say, ‘We live in America where 80% of us don’t eat the best and don’t exercise enough, and I believe she’s part of that crowd. She needs to be in sports.’


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He looks at her and says, ‘I think you are old enough to start using exercise equipment too.’ We just sat there for a second, open-mouthed, shocked. SHOCKED! He’s been our doctor since we moved here 7 years ago. ‘You should probably not allow her to drink sugary drinks or eat junk food,’ he added. WE DON’T. We’re human and so we’re not perfect. But we really do pretty well. We don’t even keep juice in the house. She’s my water lover. SHE’S A VERY TALENTED ATHLETE. I’M UTTERLY DISGUSTED. I look at him and say, ‘She is in sports. She’s on injury restriction right now due to multiple ankle breaks.’

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He replied, ‘Oh that’s right, you just said that.’ I proceed to tell him that even in this snowy winter, they go outside and play, she is a very active kid. He left the room. She looked at me and said, ‘I’m fat?’ Tears started running down her face. My jaw was on the floor. I then felt the rage start to boil up inside of me. I pulled out my phone and called my fiancé. His reaction was, ‘Olivia? OUR OLIVIA?!’ You could hear the rage in his voice.

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I watched the happy drain from my daughter’s eyes and turn to rage in mine. She was crying. I rushed her out of there. Still on the phone with my fiancé, we got in the car. It went into Bluetooth mode so she could hear him. He tried to tell her the doctor was WRONG. She was perfect and that measuring system is outdated and garbage. Again, it did nothing. She was blankly staring forward as we made our way home. And every time I glanced her way, I felt this sickening feeling in my stomach.


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