I should have been a fat kid. I mean, in my family, food has always been the solution to everyone’s problems. Got a headache? Oh, it’s because you didn’t eat enough. Nausea? A little food will make the tummy ache go away. Bad day? Shut up and smooth it over with some pasta. At least that’s what Grandma always says.
In other families, rest, a good laugh, a game of cards or some ibuprofen could do the trick. In my family, the answer is dinner, and of course, wine. Bada bing, bada boom.
This is every staunch nutritionist’s nightmare—the “cause of obesity;” the reason America is losing “the battle of the bulge.” Is this true? Yeah, probably.
But oddly enough, nobody in my immediate family is overweight. My 50-year-old aunt can eat an entire package of cookies in one sitting and still weigh 110 lbs. My 22-year-old sister can eat three trays of hot wings and still fit into the same Barbie-sized clothes she wore in the fifth grade. If I ate like that, my butt would bloom like a Chia Pet. Fuh-fuh-fuh-fatass!
Every morning on those wake-up news shows, I see dieticians shaking their heads and wagging their fingers at “fat America.” But I’d like to see how many barbeque chicken wings these so-called experts can scarf when nobody’s looking.
As a certified personal trainer and longtime health nut/fitness buff (surprising, right?), I, too, know the importance of portion control and healthy eating habits. And I’ll share them with you from now until I die. But I do cheat once in a while. Alright, more than once in a while.
And yes, sometimes I even serenade my food. It helps make the meal taste better.
If you think I’m a fatty, you can suck my chocolate-covered coffee beans.