“My name Annie Henderson,” the woman introduced herself. “I’ve worked as a nanny for 25 years and am ready to provide references I am sure you’ll find impeccable.”
“I’m sure that’ll be fine,” Phoebe said. “The agency looks top-notch, and the woman I talked to said you’re one of the best.”
And Phoebe couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was a vibe around Ms. Henderson that told her she was one of the best. Not only did she look like a nanny, with slightly graying hair and a plush but not fat body, but the way she carried herself, her posture and tone of voice... She was simultaneously comforting and stern, warm but not to be trifled with.
She even had a slight British accent, making Phoebe think of Mary Poppins.
“Did the agency tell you about my girls’... special needs?”
“They told me everything you told the representative you spoke to,” Ms. Henderson replied. “And I can assure you, I have not inconsiderable experience dealing with heavier children.”
“‘Heavier,’” Phoebe said, sighing and chuckling in one breath. Right now the girls were at school, their mother scheduling the interview in the early afternoon deliberately so the woman wouldn’t be frightened off the moment she reached the house. “That’s putting it mildly. My youngest daughters are fat. Too fat, but I haven’t been able to do anything about that.”
“If I may be so bold,” Ms. Henderson said, her voice taking on additional rigidness, “I think your first mistake is believing they are ‘too’ fat.”
Phoebe blinked.
“If your daughters are overweight according to conventional standards, then we can say they are fat,” the nanny continued, “But the qualifier ‘too’ denotes a cowardly skirting of the truth. You’re concerned that they are fat, but you won’t admit it outright. So instead you say ‘too’ in the hopes that you won’t sound overly critical.
“It leads to mixed signals. I presume you have tried to curb your daughters’ eating habits? Steer them to healthier fare instead of the junk food you apparently,” she looked down at the coffee table, covered in boxes and wrappers of Hostess goodies, “make freely available.”
“I’ve tried,” Phoebe said, “but I’ve got so much work to do around the house and trying to make healthy snacks on top of everything else-”
Ms. Henderson held up a hand.
“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, ma’am. If you did not have the need you would not have called the agency.
“But my point is that you have only been taking half-measures to help your children. You say they are too fat, but still allow them to indulge in food you, and they, know is not conducive to reducing. Whether you say it or not, whether you realize it or not, you are telling them that being fat is okay but not how fat.
“And when they are given half the story, what conclusion can they reach? They can’t know they need to eat less and eat healthier unless they know to what end.”
“I... guess I understand. So what weight should we try to get them down to?”
Now it was Ms. Henderson’s turn to blink.
“I’m sorry, but I never said they should lose weight. That is your position.”
“Mine? But surely you agree the girls are fatter than they should be. I wouldn’t be concerned if they were simply overweight, but they’re both obese by adult standards. Sophie isn’t yet 13 and she’s over 300 pounds, and her sister is maybe 30 pounds lighter.”
The nanny nodded, as if in understanding, but then she said
“That is indeed quite large. But are they unhealthy? Do they struggle in the face of the simplest exertion?”
“Well, no...” Phoebe couldn’t deny the two were active despite their size. The constant knocking over of furniture and the cracks in the ceiling spoke to this.
In fact, now that she actually thought about it, they seemed really active for being as fat as they were. They weren’t going to run marathons, but they were on their feet a lot more than the couch potato stereotype...
Than the couch potato stereotype Phoebe resembled.
“Ma’am, if I am to work for you I need you to understand that I take my job quite seriously. To that end I am well-versed in the latest papers of child psychology and health. It may seem unorthodox, but the current research tells us that nothing good comes of giving children complexes over their own bodies. We are not meant to all look the same; some people are naturally heavy, and perfectly healthy despite that.
“I can’t say for certain without meeting them, but I have the feeling that your daughters are happy and healthy even at their level of obesity. And if that is so, then... Well, I don’t think I can, in good conscience, work for you if you intend to force them to meet some arbitrary goal of physical appearance.”
Phoebe’s head was spinning. She had hoped outside help would do what she couldn’t: put a foot down and fix her daughters’ eating habits (and in the process, her own).
Now this woman was telling her it was all right for her daughters to be waddling balls of blubber?
But if there was a flaw in Ms. Henderson’s argument, Phoebe couldn’t see it. She didn’t want to give her daughters some sort of neurotic hatred of their own bodies, and she couldn’t disagree that simply calling them ‘too fat’ wasn’t going to accomplish anything on its own.
“I do agree,” the nanny went on, “that excessive junk food is not good for anyone. The chemicals and preservatives are just the first problem. The extreme levels of sugar and salt and fats can unbalance any diet, and empty calories do no one any good.
“If you want to see your daughters eat a more nutritious menu, I heartily agree. But if I am to work for you I must have your word to drop this foolishness about your daughters being too fat. I will see that they eat a proper balanced diet and receive enough physical activity. And if they should reduce, very well. But their health and happiness will be my concern, as it should be yours.”
She got to her feet, either to shake Phoebe’s hand or leave the house immediately.
“Is that acceptable?”   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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