Okay, Maybe It's Not Ironic.
In a time that we are watching the 2010 Vancouver Olympics (where the United States has been winning medals right and left--20, as of this writing) and discussing obesity (among children, adults, and my nephew's dog), The Lifeguard almost fell over when he read about the 240 kilogram (528 pound) Romanian woman who gave birth to a 2.9 kilogram (6.4 pound) baby, by caesarian section.
The woman, Victoria Lacatus, suffers from a glandular problem (I am more inclined to think that the gland in question is her mouth, not her thyroid), which contributed to her morbid obesity.
Apparently, this is a bigger problem than either The Lifeguard or First Lady, Michelle Obama thought. Lacatus, a Romanian, gave birth in a hospital for the obese. That there needs to be a hospital equipped with beds that could support the Brobdingnagian woman is somewhat puzzling to me. After all, one just doesn't wake up and find that they weigh 240 kilos. It takes time. And, the old adage, "An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure" rings true in almost every instance of obesity. (Put another way, the damage isn't done with just one Ding Dong.)
Also puzzling is the fact that her future husband, a man tipping the scales at 70 kilograms (154 pounds) was a) engaged to a woman weighing more than three times as much as he does (maybe she has a great personality?); or, b) that he was able to engage in coitus. In fact, contemplating the sheer mechanics of the latter are enough to make The Lifeguard swear off food and drink for a good long while. Oh, there is also a c). Most men would not be able to perform given the amount of alcohol required to have sex with a 240 kilogram woman.
Now, before you hop on your power chair and come gunning for The Lifeguard, please consider the following observations.
First, I do not like the that obesity is viewed as a disease. Not only does that absolve fat people from responsibility, it creates a new victim class. ("I can't stop eating, I have a disease. And, if you try to make me pay for two airline seats, I'll sue you, because I have a disease.") It is a choice, whether you like it or not. Don't want to be fat? Go for a walk, eat some vegetables, put down the Twinkies.
Second, I think that if childhood obesity is such a problem, then encouraging children to walk (or ride their bicycles) to school is a good place to start, as are recess and physical education. (Anecdotal evidence of this can be found with Number Two, whose school administration does not allow children walking to school without a parent.) Mandatory intramural sports, walks, and calisthenics couldn't hurt, either. After all, the Battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton and Harrow.
Finally, if you are unhappy with your weight (and doing something about it), then shut the hell up, you.
The Lifeguard has spoken.