Designated Fat Girl Read Online Free PDF Page B

to eat, telling Michael I was going to the store or running some other errand. Mealtimes for fat people are not the social gatherings that others enjoy. Instead they are desperatetimes filled with self-hatred and broken promises. When the eating is finished, the deal making begins. And on and on it goes.
    Sometimes I wonder how many cheeseburgers I’ve had in my lifetime, how many french fries I have eaten. How much space would all of my trash take up at the landfill? I swear, with all the meals I have purchased, I wonder, how could I have never won one of those fast-food giveaways? You know, like the Monopoly games at McDonald’s? Certainly my odds at winning were better than most. But alas, I have not won anything from eating fast food.
    When it became vogue to sue fast-food chains for various reasons, I had to chuckle. Were these people really serious? Yes, fast food had done a ton of damage to my health and to my happiness, but whose fault was that? Could I ever blame someone else for something I chose to do, even though I felt powerless to stop it? I think we all know that large quantities of fast food are harmful to the body, and we don’t need movies like
Super Size Me
to prove it. I suppose eating fast food for our generation is like smoking was to our parents’ generation. Smoking for my parents was the cool, cheap way to get your kicks. But now we know how harmful it is to the body, and our parents are hopelessly addicted. My generation has gotten used to fast food as a cheap and convenient way to eat, but we’re starting to see how bad it is for our health. Hopefully it’s a lesson we can help our kids learn early.
    Now that I am a parent, I am so completely paranoid about what and how my kids eat. I really don’t blame my parents for the way I turned out, yet I know that if I’d had a betteridea of healthier eating habits from an earlier age, then perhaps the struggle wouldn’t have been so mighty. In any case, I vowed not to let my kids eat crap. When my daughter, Emma, was just three months old, I caught my brother about to put his finger in her mouth, a finger that held the slightest dollop of whipped cream from a piece of apple pie. My mother was holding Emma and smiling broadly as Uncle Jimmy prepared to give her a treat. My screams caused Jimmy to jump back, and my mother almost dropped the baby. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” I shrieked, grabbing Emma in a huff. How dare they do something like that! Of course, they thought I was overreacting, but really, three months old? Yeah, I think that’s a little early. Besides, couldn’t they understand where I was coming from? I simply wanted to avoid future heartache for my child.
    So I scrutinize everything that goes into my kids’ mouths. But much to my chagrin, I have a couple of picky eaters to raise. On the one hand, both Emma and my son, Eli, will eat almost any kind of fruit. That makes my heart sing, especially since I don’t touch the stuff. Vegetables are a different story. Emma will eat broccoli, but only with cheese. She’ll eat green beans, begrudgingly. She’ll eat green lettuce and cucumbers—and every once in a while, a raw carrot or two. But that’s about it. And Eli, at four years old, won’t let any vegetables come near him. Nothing. I bribe, I plead, I beg, but it’s not happening. Still, they don’t drink soda, and we limit fast food to the “rare” category. Emma will drink her weight in milk, and Eli likes apple juice a little too much, but at least they’re doing much better than I ever did as a kid.
    Eating has always been an issue for me, and I suppose it always will be. Again, I can’t help but be a little jealous of a substance abuser. When a drug addict begins recovery, he can plan to avoid situations in which he’s tempted to indulge. A food addict isn’t so lucky. I have to eat in order to live. And temptation is everywhere.

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I’m Jennifer Joyner, and I’m Not on TV
JANUARY 1994
    If I’m really quiet, maybe no