I’m slightly shocked to think I, as a member of this democratic society (It’s actually a republic, -- well, some might even argue it’s a plutocracy or even corporatocracy -- but that’s not really our issue today, right?), have participated in a willful cultural ignorance that has allowed our children to remain perpetually victimized and abused.
(By “our” children, I mean, of course, the children of those who have given birth to, adopted, or in some way claimed responsibility for them. I don’t mean to imply I ever have, would, or in any way desire to participate in this messy and pricey process of raising small humans. Oh, and by virtue of empoloying “our,” which is a possessive pronoun, I mean to imply the children also/really belong to us. Americans. As a society. Maybe not financially, but definitely physically and morally.)
|An example of one such|
fat kid who needs our help
I speak, of course, of fat kids. It seems we can’t shake a stick without encountering the question of whether we (again, meaning American citizens, although certainly not personally) should remove fat kids from their parents’ or caretakers’ custodies. I know, I know – at first hearing, it sounds a bit Draconian (although not literally, at least for now!), but when you put a little logic behind it, I think you’ll agree with me that if American children are the future of our country and really belong to us – see paragraph above – we have a responsibility to actively, literally shape them into good, helpful, moral, productive citizens.
Lawmakers, diet-industry-funded scientists, and Jillian Michaels can’t all be wrong. If they say fat is bad and fat people are costing us (the collective “us” must mean “non-fat peeps” here, right?) oodles and bundles of money, I believe them. Especially Jillian Michaels. Fat is unhealthy, fat people need our help, losing weight will benefit fat folks (read: non-fat “us,” an oppressed minority), and fat kids need to be shown the way. Not much to argue against, is there?
But I’m not here to argue. I buy it. I’m all over it. If “it” were a red velvet cupcake, I’d swirl my tongue around it and nibble it bite by bite, crumbs tickling down my chin into… Oh, sorry. Where was I? In fact, I think we should do like those fat peeps out there and be BIGGER. In thought, though. Just thought.
|Akutaq, also known as "Eskimo ice cream"|
All right. So we take fat kids from obviously stupid, poor, abusive parents who probably serve akutaq for breakfast and lard-fried tortillas for dinner and put them someplace where they can learn the value of dieting and proper citizenship/public corporal ownership. Okay, sure, but why stop there? As Baldrick was known to say to Blackadder, “I have a cunning plan.”
Why not take all unhealthy kids from unhealthy parents in order to de-program and re-educate them?
I know – brilliant, right? I mean, it’s not just fat kids who need to be taken from their caretakers’ arms and taught the value of docile, state-sanctioned bodies. What about kids of depressives? Smokers? Insomniacs? Caffeine addicts? The dentally challenged? Gender dysmorphics? Anorectics? People without pets? Victims of discrimination? (Nah, just kidding. Sure, victims of discrimination experience higher levels of health problems, but it’s not really their fault they’re sick, right? Okay, well, maybe sometimes it is. But we’ll find a way to determine when it’s people’s fault and when not and act accordingly.)
For example, let me take one of my favorite – least favorite, I mean – groups of peeps: the stressed. How can we sit by and let kids live in a home where their parents STRESS OUT? Where’s the humanity, metaphorical parents of our nation’s children? I mean, do you know some of the health problems that follow stress? These parents and caretakers are costing us a fortune and teaching their kids the same awful coping strategies!
|Sapphire, a "kitty of size," learning to relax|
Imagine. Imagine there’s no stress. Imagine intervention. Imagine taking the kid at the first sign of a stress headache and teaching them the value of forced meditation and aromatherapy, of recognizing their parents’ illness and the stress (no pun intended – ha!) they’re putting on all our backs. Imagine a world of smilers, of people who have all gone through cognitive behavioral therapy and who intuitively soothe?
You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one!
|7-Up cake, shown here only as an example of|
what *not* to desire or eat.
Fat kids, smoking kids of smokers and “experimenting” kids of transgendered and LGBT folks, intellectually lazy kids with parents who prefer reality shows to The History Channel: Worry no more! We’re coming! Put down your Red Bull, your 7-Up cake, your Unisom and Ritalin, your copy of Hustler, and pack a suitcase. We’ll be there soon.
Note: My sister, a brilliant super-shero crusader for justice who also just happens to be a lawyer, told me I should include a “proviso” at the end of the article saying, essentially, this work is a creative piece of satire meant to lampoon the obcene, intrusive, and terrifying notion that the state has a right to take kids away from their parents based on a corporate-sponsored War on Obesity© that relies on shaky science, various –isms, and public hysteria. Oh, and names have not been changed to protect the guilty. This means you, Jillian Michaels.