Sure-fire cure for obesity pandemic: eat right and exercise

Recent headlines have pointed to the likelihood that the end is near: Iran working
diligently to produce nuclear weapons; the Israel-Hezbollah conflict; and the crowning glory, obesity being deemed a pandemic.

The latter tidbit was reported with considerable gravity by some media outlets,
but for the most part it served as little more than fodder for late night talk show monologues. Who knew—when the well-fed Sally Struthers was pleading on behalf of starving African children—that she was the one with a problem?

I’m in the camp that contends America was fast on the heels of the Roman Empire the moment obesity was declared a disease. Show me a person who sprouts 20 pounds of cellulite after eating a carrot and I’ll give you “disease.” Show me a person genuinely puzzled that their White Castle diet has resulted in weight gain…well; perhaps that is a disease as well, attributable more to an extra chromosome than to diet.

Make no mistake: It’s tough to stay slim in our society. Food billboards have become the new pornography; airbrushed double-cheeseburgers glisten seductively under the glare of lighting formerly reserved for Penthouse Pets. Fast food restaurants beckon from every street corner like young Bangkok prostitutes. My daily commute takes me past a Kentucky Fried Chicken and the intoxicating smells assault my senses every evening. It takes all my will power to avoid driving through their wall and diving headfirst into a steam pan full of mashed potatoes and gravy.

It doesn’t help that fast food is so cheap. Most fast food restaurants boast Value Menus featuring countless fat-laden, mega-calorie items, the prices of which are as low as their nutritional content.

A mere three bucks garners a person a bacon double cheeseburger (twice the angst for PETA), a large French fry (an entire bushel of potatoes) and a half-gallon
of soda. Pocket the savings now for angioplasty later.

And just try finding a healthy snack. Right here at Normandale a person is hard-pressed to find something in a vending machine that doesn’t contain a day’s worth of calories in a single serving. Recently I embarked upon a de facto snipe hunt by trying to track down something remotely healthy to get me through class. I might just as well have attempted to find a fellow-Republican on the Lions’ Roar staff. All I found behind the vending machines’ come-hither panes of glass were candy bars and microwaveable fare that should come with operating instructions for the school’s emergency defibrillators.

For two years now I’ve prided myself on using this column to point out problems
while offering no solutions. To atone for this I would like to proffer a sure-fire cure for the impending obesity pandemic. I can only hope that this column is picked up by the Associated Press and distributed throughout the world because I’m about to save governments everywhere millions, if not billions, of dollars in ad campaigns and research. Drum roll please…Eat right and exercise.

“That’s easy for you to say, Bonnett,” the masses cry from the NCC cafeteria in-between bites of grease-caked entrees and sips from 128-ounce Mountain Dews. “You’ve never had a weight problem.” Perhaps I never had a true weight “problem,” but I was out of shape and took steps to remedy it. Like many men gradually developed a vibrating midriff around middle-age. One night, as I washed my face at the bathroom sink, I noticed that my bulbous gut continued shaking gelatinously after each splash.

Mortified, I embarked upon an immediate change of diet and lifestyle. Gone were the desserts every night; introduced into my diet were fruits and vegetables. Microwave entrees and frozen pizzas were replaced by meals requiring fresh ingredients. I forsook my previously sedentary lifestyle in favor of a rigorous exercise program which nearly killed me at first.

One year and 20 pounds later, I’ve never felt healthier. To this day I find the lure of fast food and sweets maddening, and going for a run after a full day of work and classes is a genuine chore. The payoff is worth it, however: I can wash my face without that unsettling eighth-month pregnancy feeling.

The purpose of this column was not to be boastful or to insult overweight people. It was merely to illustrate that a combination of common sense and determination
can yield tremendous results. In a world with no shortage of genuine atrocities it’s an affront to label over-indulgence a pandemic. If anyone is offended
by what I’ve written, feel free to chase me down in the hallway. The exercise
will be good for you.