CIKU'S BEEFS: Spare a thought for vulnerable teens

The fat-shaming column that Njoki Chege wrote last weekend has been extensively discussed on social media and radio. I won’t get into that. An adult woman who gets hot under the collar over something she read can speak up for herself without my help.

The people I’m worried about,  and whom Njoki and her editors need to be very sensitive to, are the young and vulnerable. Who speaks up for them?

This is the diary of an average (fictional) teen:

I must not fail my exams. If I do, I can probably blame my results on the teachers’ strike. But I must not fail! I don’t want to disappoint my parents. They work so hard to put me through school, how can I let them down? I have bags under my eyes from too much reading and too little rest but with no teacher to help me through this syllabus, I must make sense of it on my own. Every waking moment involves books, assignments and test papers. I can’t remember the last time I went for a leisurely walk to enjoy the outdoors.

PE is a rumour when you are a candidate. But there’s one cool thing about not being in school. I don’t have to deal with this clique of mean girls that make my life hell. Not everyone can be a size 6!

My phone is ringing. OMG, it’s Paul. My heart flutters as I take his call. I focus on his deep baritone – dreamy! Then he says something that jolts me out of fantasyland. “Your friend is really pretty, is she dating anyone?”

The nerve. All this time I thought he was grafting (with me as the prize) but Paul fancies my friend. I’m the “cool chick” guys relate to because I like sports and dress like a tomboy. But that’s not who they date. They date my girlfriend with flowers in her hair and swirly skirts that show off her pretty legs. I really like Paul! But I keep my emotions concealed and offer to hook him up with her, even though seeing them together will kill me. “I knew you would be okay with it after Mary told me you don’t fancy me,” he says.

What? Mary is a friend of mine. I mighthave said in passing that I didn’t like Paul in a romantic way, but that was six years ago!

Who likes boys in a romantic way when they’re eight years old? I use the excuse of studying to quickly get off the phone. I sit there for a few minutes cursing Paul, school, frenemies and the world in general. There’s a newspaper on the coffee table. I pick it up, relieved to find something else to occupy my mind.    

“You are a fat child because your mother overfed you and you don’t move around enough to burn that fat. Don’t give us sob stories about how you grew up being teased and called names. You are fat because of your laziness and your gluttony. “

The words are like daggers aimed straight at me. Is this true? It must be, this is a respectable newspaper saying so. No one wants me? Tears well up in my eyes and slowly roll down my cheeks. There are some girls in school who recently suggested that we try purging our food after eating so we can be as thin as this writer wants us to be. I told them it’s dangerous and could lead to bulimia but now I’m not so sure. Is this why Paul doesn’t want me? I make a decision and head to the bathroom. No one hears me throwing up my lunch. It has begun.