We live in a fat country; there is no denying that. We are a country that lives for immediate enjoyment. This comes, personally handed to us, in cheap paper bags encasing food soaked with sodium and more fat than you would ever care to see up close. We also live in a country of diet fads. The Atkins Diet, the South Beach Diet, Slim Quick, Slim Fast, Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers, and the list goes on much… much longer. And yes, we also live in a country obsessed with watching the elite of the obese spectrum be whipped in to shape on our television screens. All while, we sit on the couch and enjoy a big mac and a snickers.
Rarely do I let my life outside this place seep in to my postings. Of course there is the essence, but never has there been the outright show and tell.
In the past three years, my eating habits have tiptoed along a windy path. In 2007, I was a college freshman eating laxative dosed dining hall food and nurturing a slight addiction to easy-mac. In 2009, I moved home. Home, at the time, meant a two-bedroom town house with a broken stove and constantly flooding dishwasher. Eating home was not always an option. Last year also brought many food adventures. I tried being a vegetarian, it lasted about three weeks before I failed miserably over an Italian sub… It looked so good, I just could not resist. Then, I decided I would learn to cook and began producing meals for my entire family once or twice a week. My cooking creations ranged from coconut-crusted tilapia, to freshly made eggplant parmesan with home made marinara sauce that provided a nice kick for the taste buds. In January of 2010, I read in to self-sufficient cooking. You plant, and eat what you plant, if you cannot do that, you only buy from those producing organic food locally. I lasted three chapters before inevitably falling asleep. Now, in June 2010, I occasionally cook with ingredients I choose at random in grocery stores and then attempt to mash together. Usually it ends favorably.
Now that I have put all of eating habits out on the table, without too nicely setting them, you can be the judge of if I eat well and if this piece holds any worth at all. In my defense, if I need one, I do believe that I eat considerably well for a person my age. It is a given that once a month I treat myself to the traditional McDonald’s meal of a medium big mac combo, complete with two apple pies and a chocolate milkshake. And yes, I eat every last morsel.
During a study period of January 2010 to April 2010, it was noted that 18.1% of adults, 18-29, are overweight and considered obese. As for the broader range that includes those over eighteen years old, 26.7% are considered to be overweight.
If we can sit on the couch and gawk at those being pushed and screamed at by a figure such as Jillian Michaels, and very rarely see overweight true celebrities, why is America such a fat nation?
I know, I know, you have heard this all before. You have heard it from those around you that are watching what they eat because a miniscule part of them has come to the realization: they may as well have been eating lard. But if we all know being overweight is so bad, why do Americans insist on being apart of such a daunting percentage? Who knows, but it is probably close to the same reasoning of why Americans, and those all around the globe, continue to smoke cigarettes, cigars, you name it.
This past April, America’s fatty problem worsened, it has even become a matter of National Security… Sort of. American children are too fat to meet U.S. Military fitness standards. The real security threat in this begins with the poisonous school lunches being served to American children countrywide. Lunches ridden in saturated fat and bragging high calories have put over a quarter of children on the sidelines, leaving them unable to join the military.
Is American an inherently unhealthy country? When I have children, will I have to send them to school with a bagged lunch as a defense mechanism for their health? I like to hope not, but that may be me thinking that by then the American way will have changed.
Bertolli's Version of Homegrown Poison
Yesterday evening, a small revolt took place at our dinner table. We were attacked by Bertolli, although, it was our faults, we did pay for their “meal”. Our table was graced by presence of Bertolli’s stuffed shells in scampi sauce. The suggested serving is about two shells for each salivating mouth. Each shell is swimming in butter and melted cheese, with no true scampi sauce to be accounted for. Oh, and the nutritional information? Well, that just about sent us through the roof. This will leave your stomach queasy, I promise. A mere 52% of your daily fat is present in one serving of this eyesore of a meal. Trust me, it was sickening just to look at.
Knowledge is generally the key to life, happiness, everything. This could be where American’s sink through the cracks of healthy living, they just do not know how to do it. How many Americans really read nutritional labels while at the frozen food aisle? How many really know the differences between home grown, organic, and ready-made? How many Americans truly understand that by shoveling in unhealthy meals, they are harshly disrespecting their bodies? I do not know, but the percentages of those obese in America are overwhelming and clear evidence that the American public is very misinformed about healthy eating and living, or they simply do not care.
an entitlement unless someone has first met an obligation and it is, I think, one of the tragedies in which many of the benefits we give, which were meant to reassure people that if they were sick or ill there was a safety net and there was help, that many of the benefits which were meant to help people who were unfortunate—” It is all right. We joined together and we have these insurance schemes to look after it” . That was the objective, but somehow there are some people who have been manipulating the system and so some of those help and benefits that were meant to say to people:”All right, if you cannot get a job, you shall have a basic standard of living!” but when people come and say:”But what is the point of working? I can get as much on the dole!” You say:”Look” It is not from the dole. It is your neighbour who is supplying it and if you can earn your own living then really you have a duty to do it and you will feel very much better!”
September 2, 2010
Eat Your Language, Sir
This morning I had the pleasure of sitting at a local IHOP with no other company than a wonderful waiter and one of my newest textbooks. I sat studiously taking notes, leisurely sipping at a coffee and eating my usual fruitful Danish crêpes. The textbook at my side during the breakfast has become a particularly new venture of mine, Spanish. I have always been enthralled by the language and culture but never ventured beyond the word taco language wise. And yes, I know, taco probably does not even count since I learned it at Taco Bell in the fifth grade.
Aside from my mother tongue of English, my foreign language background lies in French. As a teensy second grader, an old woman used to make the trip to the classroom I was in to speak French with us. The woman taught us the alphabet, numbers and some weather related phrases. My French studies, however, did not continue again until seventh grade where I stayed after school most days to keep my learning on going in hopes of one day being fluent in a language my family seemed to be rooted in, a handful of them anyway.
From middle school to about my junior year of high school, my French studies were quite solid. I had class every day, and stayed after school about two days a week. I traveled to Quebec for a long weekend in tow with two French teachers and about a dozen other students. We practiced our dicey language on the less than concerned natives. On that trip, I was also introduced to porn by a gothically dressed roommate and sat on. Consequently, my thumb was broken. However, none of that is even slightly relevant.
After graduating from my high school years, I took a two yearlong breather from the French language. Then, the spring before last, I decided to begin again. I continued on with my studies for two semesters, then decided against continuing for personal reasons.
My personal reasons went as follows:
The decision was then simple: stop taking French. Fin.
Now, I am studying Spanish. Why? I want to go to Spain, and because Ernest Hemingway has convinced me rather thoroughly. Conveniently enough, Spanish is also quite usable in America. So, Spanish. Hola.
Now that you have had a thorough and somewhat exact introduction to my language studies, I can begin the true story at hand. Foreign Languages and IHOP. I know what you’re thinking: This is going to be some racist rant about the wait staff. Oh, not at all.
As I was sitting doing my homework, an elder couple sat in the booth adjacent to mine. The husband of the couple noticed my Spanish textbook and proceeded to ask why in the world I would be studying such a language. I smiled, and laughed nervously as any polite young woman would. That was not a proper answer for him, so he continued on. His next reasoning for sighting that suddenly controversial Spanish textbook was that I would need to know the language fluently in order to get a job. I replied, “Well, no.” I assumed that would be the end of it.
After another small conversation with my waiter, the husband looked to me again. He was beaming with frustration at the sight of a white American girl learning Spanish. He found it ridiculous and proof that our country is crumbling. He asked what other languages I knew. I told him French. Then, he asked if I planned on learning anything else. I smiled, and for kicks went on to say Arabic. How nice it was to see the revolted look smeared upon his face. Quick thinking can be so fantastic.
For those who sympathize with this man’s frustration with Spanish becoming a spoken language among American citizens, let this be your perspective. I attend a nationally recognized University with students from across both the United States and the world. Of the mix that we are: 39% are Hispanic, 19% are white or Non-Hispanic and 18% are black. It is more than safe to say that our country is diverse, just by the judgment of one University. But, I am sure you have noticed that. Why haven’t all of us accepted it then?
This elderly man brings forth three questions. Was he afraid of the communication that could take place between the minority and the majority? Was he racist, or just in denial? Does he believe that all those in America should only be speaking the native tongue of English? Who knows, but stepping in to that IHOP with my Spanish textbook, I was not expecting that particular confrontation.
I digress. ¿Cómo se dice ‘Just eat your food.’ en español?
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