It's a dichotomy, I realize now. A long time ago, when I was little, I did mind if anybody called me chubby, which I was, until about seventh grade when I got self-conscious, right on schedule. But “PC,” the expression, wasn't in yet. Clothes used to come in regular and chubby sizes. I took a chubby size all the way through elementary school. I didn't know any different because I had a fat brood—my immediate family, uncles, aunts, cousins, fat people whatever way I turned. The truth is, I loved to eat because I didn't know any better. Eating a lot used to equate to love. But what the hell?
The fat that I once had doesn't have any bearing on the stroke I now have, or does it? But if you're overweight, morbidly obese, chubby, pleasantly plump—call it what you want—you may be in trouble.
30 percent by eating five daily servings of fruits and vegetables instead of fries, chips, alcohol, and soda. Citrus fruits, broccoli, and cauliflower are noted as particularly helpful. It may be their higher concentrations of potassium, folic acid, and fiber are the clues.
Michelle Obama gets serious when it comes to fat, er, fit kids. That is her mission. http://www.theblaze.com/stories/2014/04/05/students-fed-up-with-michelle-obamas-school-lunch-overhaul-menu-item-snapshots-spell-out-why/. Of course, they object. They would rather stuff themselves with fatty foods rather than eat healthy. I don't like to blame the parents, but who else can I blame? Instilling good eating habits is tough when you're passing Mickey D's and it's easier than packing lunch. Really? That's bullshit.
- Underweight = <18 .5="" p=""> 18>
- Normal weight = 18.5–24.9
- Overweight = 25–29.9
- Obesity = BMI of 30 or greater
And one more thing. Being overweight and having a stroke is just too much at times. When I gorge, I watch myself over the next few days. It's like you can tell you've gained weight without a scale to remind you. It's the extra pounds that add to the baggage you have to lug around in the first place.
Did somebody raise the bar? I could fool those old-time types on the Boardwalk and at county fairs that could guess my weight and give me a prize if they were crazy off the mark. I think that old saying is true, for me at least. "You carry your weight well."