Food can make you fat?

I’m sitting in my Paris office—I love to say that since it sounds charmingly deceptive—that is located next to the kitchen and break room used by employees of the bank in the same building.

Most days that I’m here, there is a steady flow of women in and out of the kitchen between 11 a.m. and 1 p.m. Generally not a lot of chatter. Nearly always the agonizing sound of some silly Soap in the background.

…Drake I’m going to have the twins of your father’s brother’s boyfriend’s sister’s uncle’s cousin’s hairdresser. I’m so sorry to disappoint you. But, we can have sex one last time because you will always be special to me…

But today, I can’t help overhearing the conversation of two early lunchers. Actually, I can only hear the high-pitched East Texas twang of one. Her heels are clicking on the industrial tile floor as she moves about the kitchen preparing her micro-waved meal.

“You know what Ann told me,” she said. “Well, you know how there are so many obese people in America? You know, more than any other country. Well, Ann was talking with her doctor. Her doctor said that he thinks it’s because of the food produced in America. And that ‘they’ are doing it on purpose to make Americans fat. I just thought that was a very interesting idea, you know?”

Yes, really interesting. Now, the food companies in our country are in cahoots to fatten-up Americans! It’s a plot to increase the consumer demand for pre-packaged food to fund the world takeover by Con Agra.

Here’s a novel idea—perhaps you have some responsibility for the 87 pounds you’ve gained over the past few years. Oh, no. You had nothing to do with opening your mouth and shoving in a box of Twinkies. Or those eight cold Dr. Peppers a day. Or the KFC buckets of chicken. Gallons of Ben & Jerry’s. Bags of Doritos. It’s not your fault.

That’s really what it’s about. Nobody wants to take responsibility for their own decisions and actions. It’s so much easier to blame someone or something else for our problems, failures, short-comings. We don’t just do it with our weight. We do it with our character.

I just can’t commit to a relationship because my first boyfriend cheated on me.
I’m angry all the time because my father didn’t buy me a car when I turned 16.
I’m distant and withdrawn because other people are disappointing me all the time.

We do it to when we make mistakes at work. Hilary told me to hurry so I had to cut corners on the report.

We do it when someone is disappointed by our behavior. I’m late because I got stuck behind this really slow truck. The road construction didn’t help.

It’s just easier, safer to place the blame elsewhere. It helps fuel our desperate attempts to appear perfect – even if it’s just in our own minds.

True--there are some things beyond our control. Especially, in the area of weight gain. Genetics, illness, injuries can all contribute to making it really tough or even impossible to maintain a healthy weight.

We can’t control a lot of what happens in our lives. That’s just the way it is. But, we can choose our attitude. We can decide our priorities. We can decide our reactions. We can choose when we open our mouth to speak…when we open our mouth to eat.

It’s after noon now. I hear a certain chicken fajita calling my name. Mmm. Guacamole and chips, too. Can’t forget the rice with grated cheese and peppers. And just to be safe – a giant DIET Dr. Pepper.

It’s not my fault. My stomach made me to do it!

Nicky's Gone

Wednesday, Jan 21 I was riding around in my gas-guzzling SUV looking for a mysterious and ellusive two acres of land bordered on one side by trailer trash. My cellphone rang and it was my mom telling me that my cousin had gone into a coma. He had been sick for a very long time, sick with emphysema. Filled with fluid in his lungs, filled with sorrow because of his sickness, filled with regret that he had smoked even after watching his mother die from the very same disease.

My husband was with me and I told him Nick was in a coma. We kept driving. What do you do except keep driving?

About five minutes later an agent from our office called. "Wendy? I just called to tell you he died." Just like that. No warm up, no getting used to the idea, no apologies. (Strangely enough, the following weekend her own cousin died unexpectedly and prematurely after going into a brief coma.)

We were not close, but I have a deep fondness for his father, my maternal uncle. He has always been a surrogate dad to me and I felt such pain to think what he has been going through. Parents should go first.

Rest easy, Nicky, at last.