You Don't Sweat Much for a Fat Girl Read Online Free PDF Page A

more are gathered, you can talk about this stuff,” says Verlie. She’s gotten a little dotty lately and tends to put “U.S.” in front of everything.

    “I was at the U.S. Post Office,” she starts and I can’t resist saying, “What? Not the Mexican Post Office? You sure?”
    Oh, don’t judge me. Verlie would worry the shit out of a septic tank, and taking her around town on her errands because her grown son is a male-type person and therefore unable to be of any use whatsoever to an aging relative, has given me plenty of hours in the car to hear about her “piles” as she calls them. Apparently this was popular vernacular for hemorrhoids in, oh, 1817.
    “It’s just a U.S. nuisance is what it is,” said Verlie one day after I’d picked her up from her eye doctor appointment. We were on the way to Walmart, where I knew she would demand to see the butcher and discuss which meats would be easier on her colon.
    “I don’t think Walmart has a butcher,” I said. “It’s just some guy who puts out the pretty little cellophane-wrapped packages.”
    “Well, he’ll know what’s what,” she huffed. “He can recommend some U.S. meat for me.”
    I tell Verlie that she should be more concerned about fruits and vegetables for fiber and maybe even ease up on the meat consumption, but she just gives me a sideways look that conveys the obvious: “If you know so damn much, why does your ass hang off either side of the bucket seats in your Mustang, little missy?”
    Even so.

    I convinced Aunt Verlie to try a few high-fiber cereals, which did seem to help with The Problem for a while.
    But all cereal is not created equal and it wasn’t a surprise to me when someone blew the whistle on those wacky cereal companies whose claims were getting kinda silly, even to Verlie.
    Like the “miracle tonic” salesmen who hoodooed an unsophisticated prairie public, the folks at Kellogg’s even claimed that, yes, Froot Loops were good for you.
    It’s not even real froot! How could it possibly be good for you? And what is froot anyway?
    General Mills was just as bad, practically claiming that Cheerios could cure male pattern baldness and give you X-ray vision.
    I imagine the FDA cracked down on some of the more outlandish claims.
    And, somewhere, there were real humans who were actually shocked that they got busted. I dreamed up this little conversation one day while waiting for Verlie to get her “hairs done” as she likes to say. Her son was on a cruise to St. Lucia. He’s an asshole.
    Kellogg’s bigshot: “So you say we’re not going to be allowed to claim that Frosted Mini-Wheats improve a child’s attention span by 20 percent?”
    Company attorney: “That’s right. Because, in point of fact, that’s just kind of, uh, made up.”

    Kellogg’s BS: “I hear you. What if we say that if you eat Frosted Mini-Wheats, you will improve your IQ by twenty points? How ’bout we say that?”
    Attorney: “No.”
    Kellogg’s BS: “So I’m guessing the whole leaping tall buildings in a single bound is out, too?”
    Attorney: “Rightaroonie.”
    Kellogg’s BS: “And we really have to sign something saying that we won’t make misleading claims on our cereal boxes anymore?”
    Attorney: “Yes, that’s the gist of it.”
    Kellogg’s BS: “But what about the claim that Cocoa Krispies will help support your child’s immune system? We can still say that, right? I mean this is still America the last time I looked.”
    Attorney: “Nope, you can’t say that because it’s technically not true. Eating cereals that contain up to 50 percent sugar don’t keep your kid from getting colds or anything else. We just, sorta, made it up.”
    Kellogg’s BS: “But cereal is good for you! It has vitamins and fiber. People love fiber! Look! I have a letter here from a woman in North Carolina … Verlie something … says that, until lately, she hasn’t had a decent …”
    Attorney: “Doesn’t matter.”
    Kellogg’s BS: “OK. But