Okay. Let me just say something about this.
I once broke down in front of my little cousins. I was the older, high-school teenager they always looked up to and in that moment the three of them (all ages 7/8) were huddling around me trying to console me. I had never been more ashamed of myself for doing that. It’s one thing to cry and have your baby cousins comfort you. It’s another to sit there and sob and mutter: “I’m fat. I’m huge. I’m disgusting.” And they heard it.
I hate what I said. I gave them the wrong ideas completely that at one point I heard from my aunt that her daughters were insecure about their weights. They were 8. I hated myself so much for what I had done. I wanted to beg them not to even think about weight or body-image. That weight is such a trivial thing.
I’ve sat down with them on numerous occasions to let them know what was wrong that day, that there’s more to life than what I had been worrying about. I said that the most important thing is to be happy and help someone feel happy too. You should eat right, and be active and healthy, but never go to extremes. I told them to look in the mirror and remind themselves that not only are they beautiful, but everyone around them is beautiful too. I told them that they’re kids, that bodies are different and change all the time. And I’m praying whatever I had said won’t affect them later on. I’m terrified of it. I want to protect them from whatever harm this skinny-obsessed world could do.
These girls believe in magic. They don’t think, they know, I’m in my last year of Hogwarts, and now I’m off to Wizard College. They believe in joy. They love games, and curiosity. They’re honestly some of the brightest girls I’ve met too- I’m not just saying that! They’ve been reading encyclopedias since the age of four! If I even planted one of the first seeds to affect their views on health and body from that one episode I’m never going to forgive myself…