Snippet Saturday - Obesity is not green, sugar poisoning, and my latest insanity

In my effort to be a more kind and gentle blogger, I was not the first to think of this.  It took scientists, cruel bastards that they are, to point this out.

Obese people contribute more to the global warming crisis than fit people.  I am not making this up. 

Here's the logic behind the theory.  Obese people eat about 18% more food than fit people.  That food has to be grown or fed, processed, and shipped out from all over the world.  Every aspect of food preparation and delivery requires energy.

The article also puts forth that fit people probably drive less than obese people meaning that obese people use more fuel and put more vehicle emissions into our air.  They do nothing to support this assertion though.  Regular readers of this blog know that there is a study that says that lean people tend to walk more than 6,000 steps a day and less-than-lean people walk less than 6,000 steps a day so it could be a correct assumption.

Touched on but not the topic of this article is the fact that the 18% extra that is being consumed could be used to feed people that don't get enough food.

Along those lines, I'm sad to report that my parents poisoned my son last night.  I was at work and Tia had some errands to run, a couple of which would take her into a casino where kids are not exactly welcomed.  My parents watched Trey for a couple of hours.

Their house is not the same as it was when I was a kid.  When I lived there as a youngster, the only sugar in the house was Kool-Aid.  Now, they have cookies, chocolate, ice cream, and all kinds of sugar laden goodies on tap.  We have told them a couple of times that Trey has a low tolerance for sugar and that they are not to give him more than a couple of treats.

That bit of instruction apparently went out the window last night and Trey was allowed to eat anything and everything he wanted.  Tia and I took turns until four this morning getting up with him when he needed to puke. 

It's a bit after 10 now.  He hasn't puked for hours and is sleeping soundly now.

Even as a kinder and gentler blogger, I still stick with the position that poisoning your kids with sugar is child abuse and that overcoming the poison effect by giving them a steady diet of sugar so they build up a tolerance (along with insulin resistance) is still child abuse.  You can leave hateful comments or email if you want but I'm not going to change my mind.

My son won't be going back there again for a while.  We'll hire a babysitter.

On a much lighter note, I've found something to do with my spare time.

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I can wait until you're done laughing before continuing.

So, I was in the middle of working my core muscles on Thursday with P90X Core Synergistics when my phone rang.  Actually, it rang all through the day setting a new record for the number of phone calls that I have received in one day but the pciq (phone call in question) for this part of the post happened during Core.

It was my mom letting me know that there was a vacancy on the city council that was going to be appointed next week.

"And this means what to me." -MIB

"You should apply," she said.  My family has been talking in movie quotes around the dinner table for about 25 years and even though my mom doesn't speak the language, she understand what we're saying.

"Yeah, I don't think so," I said.

"Have Tia apply," she said.

"I'll do that," I said.

"My mom wants you to apply for the city council," I said to Tia when she walked in the house.  I'm not much of one for small talk or breaking the ice and so she was stopped in her tracks briefly.

"Why?" she asked.

"I have no idea," I said.  "You should call her."

She called my mom and then announced that *I* should apply.

"Yeah, I don't think so," I said.  Deja vu.

"You'd be good at it," she said.

"I'd probably be pretty good at hitting myself in the head with a hammer but that doesn't mean that I want to do it for two hours every other Tuesday."

She explained the reason which I can't pass on here because I'd be speaking for other people about other people.  I will tell you that it had nothing to do with me.

You know how this part of the story ends.  I ended up submitting my letter of interest to the mayor and I'll find out on Tuesday whether or not I'm on the City Council.  If I get the position, I'm going to use it as a stepping stone to work my way into politics so that I can run for president.  Why not?

Obesity Article

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Comments

[CV Rick]

You are playing with fire, my friend. I'd just like to say that the words and views expressed by the owner of this blog are his own and are in no way indicative of the views of anybody who reads his blog or links to it frequently.

Not even the ones cheering.

Or high-fiving each other.

Or screaming, "Yeah, you go boy."

[Success Warrior]

Ricky T, I had no idea you would be so supportive of my bid for the City Council. ;)

[Editormum]

Aw, damn! Ya done ticked me off, now, my friend! You’re gonna have to listen to me rant for a minute here.

For the record, not all fat people are out there scarfing down enough food at a single meal to feed a third-world country for a week. Not all of us are slobby couch-potatoes who watch our expanding waistlines with complacent tolerance. Not all of us are lazy, gluttonous pigs with no self-respect and no self-discipline. You, and the rest of the media, are painting with far too broad a brush, and it's victimizing some people who should be given a break.

I'm 5' 2" tall and weigh 240 pounds. That gives me a BMI of 44, and makes me morbidly obese. Am I proud of this? No, I'm bloody well not! Am I happy about this? Heck, no! I used to weigh 100 pounds, ran thirty miles a week and did Callanetics training three hours a week. If you think I'm the slightest bit complacent about being a size 22 instead of a 4, you're nuts. I've been ACTIVELY trying to lose the "extra me" for nearly ten years. Every time I start making real progess, life knocks me flat.

In the late 1990s, I had two kids seventeen months apart and went from 100 pounds to 250 pounds. I was down to 185 when my marriage imploded and I had to deal with a nasty divorce, re-entering the job market, etc. I bounced back up to 230 pounds. Things had started to calm down and I was beginning to drop pounds when I was laid off. Twice. In two years. That's when we became certain that there was a link between stress and my weight. I'd dropped to 185 again, but the layoffs and a very stressful job popped me back up to 250. In 2004, I found an almost stress-free new job. I began to drop pounds.

In 2005, I was down to 175 -- that's 75 pounds lost in a year! Then I was in three serious car wrecks in the space of sixteen months, which nixed all exercise for almost two years. When I was finally allowed to exercise again, I had a freak accident that ripped my gastrocnemus (calf muscle), making weight-bearing exercise impossible. When I was allowed to start walking for exercise again, early in 2008, I went from 250 to 230 in just three months, and then broke a bone in my foot -- due to an injury that turned out to have occurred in one of those wrecks. I had to have surgery to repair the damage to the muscles, bones, and joints.

So here I am, forbidden to walk for exercise again. I can do stretches that don't require standing/demi-pointe work, but no weight-bearing or impact work. While stretching is great and keeps me toned, it certainly doesn't help me burn fat.

I eat 2000 calories a day or less. I eat primarily vegetables, lean protein, and whole grains, with small amounts of fruit and dairy. I eat only when I am hungry, and I don't snack between meals. I walk an average of 8000 steps a day, according to my pedometer. And I do 30-60 minutes daily of Callanetics stretching and toning exercises. I am eagerly awaiting the day I can start walking to exercise again, as I intend to work my way from walking to running as soon as I'm medically able. In the meantime, I am paring my life to the bone to reduce stress, and working to instill other healthy habits like regular sleep, plenty of water, etc.

All that to say, Don't paint fat folks with such a broad brush! SOME of us don't deserve it!

[Success Warrior]

Mum, I have to say that all of that sounds extremely difficult and frustrating as well as plausible.

"My mom drank Kool-Aid stored in a plastic pitcher," sounds like a cop-out to me.

If you ever want to bounce ideas around about what can be done with a bum foot, send me an email. I've messed up my ankles a few times and each time, I've just quit working out. The fact that you keep on trying makes you tougher than me. Keep it up!