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| Battle of the Bulge |
By: By Susan Swindell Day - June 2008
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Have you seen the Colossal Cakes at Kroger? Displayed glaringly on their own round tables lest you overlook them? They are shockingly enormous and worrisome to me, especially when I ponder the swimsuit I’m supposed to don soon.
I try – I really do, like so many of you other moms do – to stay fit. I try not to eat too much junk … too much of what will make my get-up-and-go sit down and stay put. I have to keep my energy up; I run around for a great part of each day after four children … for whom I am the role model. But take one look in my pantry and you’ll see what a miserable flop I am so far at teaching proper nutrition.
Take one look at one of those Colossal Cakes and you’ll see the evidence of why our world is struggling with an obesity epidemic. We’ve no restraint anymore. It’s all hanging out. Even David Letterman chides us. The other night, he teased with a comment like, “You Starbucks lovers, don’t kid yourselves any longer. If you think you’re swinging in for coffee, you’re not! Those things are milkshakes!”
And just as my 14-year-old daughter is blossoming into a lovely woman, I’ve noticed, too, that she’s put on weight. She is, in fact, unfit. Now don’t start yelling at me that I’m not allowed to talk about my own child’s weight. I have simply noticed – and because of my own lame efforts, mind you – that my daughter is overweight. I notice because I can still hear my mother referring to my own “baby fat.”
So what am I going to do about it as chief nutritionist in my household? Well, I’m not going to talk about baby fat to Alexandra because that particular memory for me co-mingles with shame. But I am determined to make a better effort to pare back on our carbohydrates (candy, cake, cookies, crackers, cereal, potatoes, rice), and make a concerted effort to buy more fruit (you know, those things called apples, pears, cherries, peaches, plums, apricots). And numero uno: I’m going to talk more about athletes and caring for our bodies.
Aside from sumo wrestlers, I can’t think of any other athlete that carries extra weight. I admire the lean, sinewy bodies of long-distance runners, tennis players and bicyclists, and I think, how do they do it? But they probably look at the overweight, unenergized many among us and wonder the same.
It’s an addiction, my better half says. Americans can’t stop eating. And it’s everywhere. And fast food is cheaper than healthy food. And Colossal Cakes keep getting bigger and bigger. Or, if you prefer, you can buy a ready-cut individual jumbo slice of cheesecake, red velvet cake, wedding cake, chocolate fudge cake, Boston cream pie, anything – and down it in your car before heading home. If you really want to.
What’s the answer?
Fitness. Sports. Fun with your body as it runs, zig-zags and throws itself into various positions on a playing field. It doesn’t have to be competitive sports. It can be recreational. It can be a game of Red Light, Green Light or Hopscotch each night after dinner. Something … done with others. Because others make us accountable to ourselves. Like I am accountable for my children.
And now I’m glaring at that new bathing suit that’s eyeballing me from it’s hanging position in my closet. It’s a start.
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