Some weighty issues about self esteem.

                                                                                                                By Dave Hamby

              I saw on the evening news the other night where school officials in Pennsylvania were sending letters home to the parents of their overweight students informing them that their children were fat and were facing the health risks of obesity.  

             Do these officials think the parents are unaware of the fact that their kids are chubby?

                I have a friend who just moved down here from Pennsylvania and she has told me often about how people there are just not as warm and friendly as folks here are.   That’s not surprising considering that they have to put up with such ill-mannered school officials.  

             I can’t help but wonder how they worded this letter.  I’m certain that in these politically correct times they didn’t just come out and say “Hey, your kid is fat and will most likely die young because of that.”   Perhaps they softened the news with a little poetry.   Something like:

              “Chuckey’s a little chubby and Fred has grown flabby,

and Lucy has gotten so large, that her hiney is as big as a barge.  

                If you don’t quit feeding these kids all of that junk,

they’re really going to end up in a funk.  

               So take away that taco and give that kid a pear,

otherwise they’ll all end up in intensive care.”  

             Wouldn't this make a great rap song?

             I guess these officials will worry about self esteem issues after the kids have dropped a few pounds.

              I’m certain the lawyers in that part of the country can expect to do a booming business.  The litigation against the tobacco companies has shown us that Americans can’t be held accountable for their actions.

             I’m wondering if they’re going to target the television networks first, for making all of these cartoons that caused little Chucky to spend so much time sitting on his duff. Because of television’s negligence he’s grown so large that last Halloween all he had to do was paint himself silver to go trick-a-treating as the Goodyear blimp.

              Perhaps they’re gonna go after the makers of Twinkies and Oreo’s first.  I can imagine the future congressional hearings where the presidents of Nabisco and Hostess testify, “In my opinion, sugar is not addictive.”  Wouldn’t you love to see that clown from Jack-in-the-box in court having to explain why there’s so much fat in the Sourdough Jack.  

             Hey Michael Dell, your billions aren’t safe.  Your company’s sold a lot of computers that’s forced kids to spend many hours playing electronic games instead of exercising.  

             I think auto manufacturers are another good target.  If we didn’t have all of these cars, we would have to walk to where we’re going and we’d all be a lot healthier.

              Municipalities could also be sued.  If they didn’t have all of those parking spaces, spaces they make money off of, then people would have to leave their cars at home and walk into town.  Clearly they’re more interested in their profit than they are our health.

              The litigious potential here is enormous.  Bigger even than Chuckey’s butt.

              I know that as a person who could be medically described as corpulent, I may be a bit sensitive in this area.  In fact, I’ve been accused about being a little touchy about the fact that I’m still a growing boy.  

             I walked into the office here the other day and was greeted by my managing editor with a, ”Hi Dave, whatcha up to?”   I thought that my weight gain really wasn’t any of his business, but I responded with, “265 lbs, but I bought a bicycle.”  

             I really did get a new bike, a 21 speed mountain bike.  With the nice weather coming and all of these new hike and bike trails being built, I’m going to pedal my portly posterior to a smaller mass. (Hey ed, don’t correct my spelling. That “m” is supposed to be there).  

             If you see a fat guy pedaling a new mountain bike around town, give him a wave or tootle your car’s horn. It’ll most likely be me.  

             If you want to be certain it’s me, just look for all of the reflective tape I put on the bike.  My doctor buddies inform me the health benefits of riding a bike are greatly reduced if I get run over by a car.

              Fat and happy may be a good way to describe me, but I’m beginning to feel persecuted.  The last time I had these feelings I quit smoking and have been happy about that choice since.  Of course, that’s when I started getting fat.

              When I turned 40 years of age I started going to a doctor every year for an annual check-up.  

              A doctor had his offices next to my body shop so I went to see him for the first few years.  My blood pressure is good and my health is generally excellent, so when it came down to any aliments I suffered the only thing I could complain about was the fact that my knees hurt. “Well, Dave,” he would explain to me, “the reason your knees hurt is because you’re carrying around that big belly.  You know, if I strapped a 60 lb anvil around my waist and walked around with that extra weight, my knees would hurt too.”  

Then one evening, while he was smoking a left-handed cigarette, he had a vision.  He abandoned his family and practice and went off to Arizona to treat Native Americans.

             I had to find a new doctor.  There was a rotund fellow in a fellowship I belonged to that was a physician, and I asked if he would be my new doctor.   He accepted and at my first check-up when I complained about my knees he said, “A fine physical specimen like you?  We need to operate!”

             An operation was done and after a few weeks of healing my knees no longer hurt.  I was ecstatic. After a couple of years though the aches and gravel began to creep back into my knee joints.  

              One of the physicians that performed the operation had joined this fellowship I belonged to, so I went directly to him with my complaints.  “I don’t think you guys did a very good job on my knees,” I complained.  “They’re starting to hurt again.” “Well Dave,” He explained to me with real patience, (You have to have a lot of patience (patients?) to be a successful doctor.)  “The reason your knees hurt is because you’re carrying around that big belly.  You know, if I tied a 60 lb bag of cement around my waist and walked around with that extra weight, my knees would hurt too.”  Apparently my first doctor left town with the only medical anvil.

              I’m hoping that by losing a few pounds, about the weight of a bag of cement or an anvil, my knees will feel better and I’ll quit being bothered by the news stories about the epidemic of fat people in the United States.

(This column appeared in its original form in the Round Rock Leader.   It is available for your publication.)