My Couch Made Me Fat!

A columnist in our local community newspaper has made it impossible for me to ever again write about my personal life. Her inane recounting of adorable things her children do, nutty things her spouse does, and her own silly observations of life's petty annoyances have seared--no, charred--the part of my brain that comes up with this stuff, drastically altering its landscape. Anything "cute" is now nauseating, and if there is anything I avoid, it's nausea. In fact, vomiting is my least favorite activity, as many people close to me know. (I had not vomited for 53 years, until I got the flu two years ago and broke that particular record.) So the question arises: what shall be the stuff of The Daily Droid?

One subject that never disappoints is obesity. Yesterday I read in the New York Times (so it has to be true) that obesity is caused by unregulated chemicals in our couches, rugs, shampoo and grocery receipts that triggered fatness when were just mere embryos. There's an accompanying photo of a fat mouse and a skinny mouse, and the fat one was given some of the bad chemicals in utero, and now look at it! (See photo.)

Once again we learn that people can't help it; fat is hereditary. There is no mention in the article of Chili's, TGIFriday's, Olive Garden, double-stuffed pizza, KitKat bars, Girl Scout cookies, Ben and/or Jerry, Doritos, Cheetos, Fritos, Tostitos, sodas, lattes are key lime pie with whipped cream and that raspberry sauce they drizzle around the side. Or Whoppers, neither the burger kind nor the malted milk ball movie candy kind. No, not at all. Just this business about endocrine disruptors, which are classified as "obesogens," and it's obvious what those do. They're rampant in pesticides used on crops and in plastic bottles and canned food and jet fuel.

Apparently if our elected officials would get off their butts and pass the Safe Chemicals Act we could all look better in a bathing suit.