Kelly and the Flag

Last Friday afternoon, Kelly carried the Amistad flag in her junior high homecoming parade. For one stretch of Main Street, she wasn’t the kid who gets teased in the hallway. She wasn’t the one comparing herself to sisters who fit the mold easier. She was the flag bearer, and she was proud.

What most people don’t see is the fight behind that moment. Kelly has spent years hearing doctors talk about portion control and exercise. She’s an 11-year-old with size 12 flat feet who can’t find shoes that fit, let alone shoes that make her feel like she belongs. She’s a kid who knows calorie counts and labels when she should still be carefree. She wants to lose 80 pounds, not because she doesn’t like who she is, but because she’s tired of how the world treats her.

The thing is, Kelly is more than a number on a scale. She’s brilliant with makeup, blending shades and textures like an artist. She bakes, she cooks, and she sings with a voice that stops me in my tracks. But kids don’t see that yet. They see her belly, her round face. And it chips away at her every day.

So yes, we’ll do the labs—thyroid, endocrine, blood sugar—because I need to know if there’s more going on. But the hardest part isn’t medical. It’s the way kids her age learn to measure each other, and themselves, against impossible standards.

To the parents reading this: if your kid is fighting the same fight, don’t ignore it. Don’t tell them to “shake it off.” Sit with them. Listen. Advocate. Find the resources, demand the testing, and remind them they’re more than what the mirror shows. Junior high is brutal, and our kids need us to be louder than the voices tearing them down.

Kelly held that flag high Friday night. And for that moment, she got to feel what I’ve known all along—she’s worth being seen.