Editorial :: Sequim Gazette

Sequim Gazette Editorial and Letters to the Editor

Fat Boy

Published on Wed, Dec 3, 2008 by Jim Follis

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Don't be calling me fat unless you're interested in a fat lip. I'm tired of hearing the word fat. For that matter, plump, porky, ample don't set much better with me.

The deal is, I'm venturing into that once foreign ground that so many of us have avoided all these years. It used to be that all I had to do to drop a couple of pounds was miss a handful of meals and run a mile farther in the morning. Then it got a little harder and it took a week of concentrated effort; but they would come off.

Now, it's a big deal to lose anything. And for me, it's double hard to handle. I'm skinny as a stick everywhere but my gut. I don't even have enough bum to hold up my pants, but I got a gut. I look like a guy that's trying to shoplift a beach ball. All my weight's in my big ole belly.

"You know, that weight in your stomach is the worst weight you can have," drones my once likeable doctor.

Remind me to start looking for an obese doctor that I can relate to.

And now I read that Japan is adopting this new policy of measuring the girth of all their male population. If you exceed the dimensions prescribed for your age and height, you lose. You will be assigned to an educational program; and if that doesn't work, you're in for big troubles. They've tallied up how much it costs the country to have obesity running rampant. If you're overweight, not only does it cost you; but it costs the country. If you can't curb your weight gain, it'll cost you instead of your neighbor.

I heard a chap just the other day intoning that if we could only return to the average weight we were in 1990, we wouldn't have the health care problem we have now. Furthermore, we would be a trillion bucks ahead now. Not only does it cost big bucks to deal with our health problems related to obesity, but tomorrow's problems are even more costly.

So, how do I lose this growth around my middle?

Last week Wife Nancy and I took a spin up to the Spruce Railroad Trail to burn off a couple of inches of blubber. A bag of nuts, an avocado and an apple seemed like plenty for a lunch and perhaps a stop off at Granny's for a cuppa joe on the way home.

It was a beautiful day. The hike was perfect, the company great. I was really proud of our efforts. I figured we must have burned off at least a week's worth of lard.

The stop off at Granny's for coffee didn't turn out so well. The special board chalked out ... split pea soup with ham chunks and Granny's special apple hazelnut crisp. Since I was a little hungry and definitely didn't want to fall into the dessert trap, I immediately went for the soup. Wife Nancy, I'm sorry to report, went for some ice cream.

Ten minutes later the harried waitress breathlessly reported that they were out of split pea soup; would I be interested in a nice bowl of chili?

Nope, I have a crock-pot full of chili waiting for us when we got home and I think I'll just switch to the dessert special.

Wife Nancy's eyes got big and she muttered something about that being quite a switch.

The rest of the story involved the size of the apple crisp with ice cream. It came on a plate the size of a serving platter. It was huge. But I didn't mind - down it went. No trouble at all.

But there's more. When we got home and polished off a couple of bowls of my homemade chili, I decided to finish off the pumpkin pie that we'd been working on for the past several nights.

The bread machine is in quarantine, the wine cabinet is locked. No candy within a 50-mile radius, bread is nonexistent. We're dedicated to losing this awful weight.

I'm thinking that about the only way I'll ever lose this belt flab of mine will be to get my lips surgically sewn shut and a nutritional pump installed that will control the amount of nutrients that enter my system. Desserts may as well be made out of plastic, fine wine, slow-cooked food, gourmet prepared cuisine won't even interest me. I'll be as pure as the driven snow (and about as interesting).

I wonder if the next census will report porkyness district by district. And you know what will come next - federal dollars based on the pudge-to-people ratio.

Jim Follis is a retired school administrator, has published two books and currently writes three newspaper columns. Eating, drinking and making merry are his professed hobbies. Traveling, trekking and observing people follow not far behind.

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