The thing about first grade girls is that they mostly like each other. They have moments of being jerks to one another, but mostly they're friends. All of them.
Which is exactly why it's not a good idea to hand each of them a folded piece of paper. They will open it. They will read it. They will compare notes.
That's how it came to be that Alexis learned how she measures up. Literally. It's how she learned that she's the sixth tallest girl in her class. It's how she learned that she got the same score on the vision test as one of her friends. It's what led to her discovery that she passed the hearing test, just like all of the other girls in her class.
Which, the hell? I do not believe this nonsense that involves first grade girls being able to hear. That means they all can hear, but choose to not listen. BLASPHEMY! It would be easier to cope if it turned out that there is a temporary disorder that effects little kids and renders them partially deaf. WHY DO YOU IGNORE YOUR PARENTS, SMALL CHILDREN?
Anyway.
There was a folded piece of paper customized for each child in the class, and the girls took the time to open their notes and review the results. The health exams covered all of the basics.
Including weight. And BMI.
Alexis didn't mention the kerfluffle until weeks had gone by and I had thrown away the piece of paper, so I don't know what the numbers said. She does. She can tell you that she is the fourth heaviest girl in her class, but that her BMI put her at nearly the top of her class. Through a series of conversations and note-comparing and general stupidity that a common in the first grade, she came to the conclusion that she is fat. Fatter than her classmates.
Obese. She used the word "Obese" to describe herself.
"It said on the paper that I'm nearly obese, momma!" she reported. She also reported feeling hurt and sad and self-conscious about the whole thing. The story came to light one morning when she declared herself "too obese" to wear a particular shirt.
I have never once commented on my own weight in front of her. Never. Once. I refuse. I will not be that mom who complains she needs to diet and goes on and on about jeans being too tight or any of that nonsense. That crap is contagious and she is not getting it from me. NO WAY.
Apparently that doesn't matter. That crap is contagious, and you can catch it through contact with other first graders.
Dammit.
