I’ve been hearing about America’s obesity problem for a long time.  Nowadays there are endless reports and statistics that basically conclude that all Americans are fat.  This is hard for me to understand because when I was in school, which was not really that long ago, fat kids were still rare enough to be popular on the basis of their fatness alone. Even in 2002 when I was a camp counselor, we had a single fat kid who endeared himself to staff and campers alike through a mix of Chris Farley impressions and a unique ability to imitate a 1920’s woman by doing the Charleston using his stomach as his skirt.  

In the last eight years though, it seems America’s stomachs have gone from useful function as Flapper imitators to a dangerous force jeopardizing lives and driving up the cost of everything and causing all news media outlets to run at least one story a week about a fat person who felt wronged as a result of some treatment they received or didn’t receive by virtue of their fatness.  

Last week I was on a plane from California and finally came arms to stomachs and legs to swollen ankles with the problem.   On the trip I sat between a husband and wife who wished to sit in the same row, but who weren't keen on having their comfort spoiled by their spouse so kindly left the middle seat for me. 

I would have been surprised by the preposterous idea of forcing a total stranger to pour himself between spouses, but for the fact that I was introduced to this thoughtful maneuver in 2007 by a lovely Israeli couple who forced me to sit between them and their “been married for 50 years” bickering and snack sharing for the 12 hours between Tel Aviv and Newark.   That time around, my aisle seat had been taken by an unnamed person with alleged diabetes who was successful in convincing medically-savvy Continental Airlines staff that being 18 inches closer to the aisle would make them less likely to die.

The difference last week was that the couple who used me as a spacer was vast enough that they were generally out of breath.   Any questions I had about how they’d gotten so heavy were answered when they brought out their own supply of snacks, which was mostly homemade Ritz cracker and cream cheese sandwiches which seemed to pair nicely with the effective Diet Cokes they got from the flight attendants.

As I got increasingly ill from my contact with the midsection and arms of my friendly seat-mates, I started to look around and noticed that I, as a person of normal girth, was in the minority and became convinced that it’s time to do something about our condition.

In 2001 I lived in Spain where there are as many fat people as baseball fans.  If you ask Spaniards why none of them are fat they will a) laugh b) not understand your Spanish and c) when they finally understand what you are asking, tell you that being fat is gross and British d) tell you about how when they went to America everyone was fat and then puff out their cheeks for emphasis. 

Most people assume that difference in obesity between Mediterranean countries and the US is explained by diet or olive oil or nonexistence of suburbs but the difference in average weight between Spain and America is explained by much simpler dynamics.

The most important, is that Spaniards as a society care about appearance and are freely critical of one another’s looks until well past the time-tested American cutoff of 35 years or whenever your weight or appearance make it clear that you no longer wish to be judged.   A Spaniard will think nothing of stating the obvious about someone’s homeliness or weight while in America, we would deem this as cruel, call it harassment and then hire some kind of consultant to teach kids about being nice to one another.

I’d like to think that this type of shift in thinking could turn things around but since fear of death, permanent discomfort and the knowledge that it is disgusting to press your swollen calves against the person next to you haven’t stopped us from developing a national pride around our fatness, I think it’s time for the government to get involved.  

This kind of action will take a unified effort and will probably be called “fascist” by The Right but I think most people would sacrifice some percentage of their freedom for a guarantee that they’d never have to touch anyone’s swollen extremities against their will.