I have no time right now.
(then why are you blogging?)
(shut up)
So I've been eating off the fat of the land. I live in a suburb, so the fat of the land comes wrapped in paper and handed through the window of my car. Tonight I went to KFC. By the benificence of Yum Brands, my local KFC is also a Taco Bell. Being naturally perverse, I can't order just KFC, or just Taco Bell, or any rational, suggested, combination of the two. No crispy strips and tacos combo for me.
I got a bean and cheese burrito, a small mashed potato, and a biscuit. And a pepsi. Diet. Because diet tastes better. Hippy. I got home and unpacked my colonel/south of the border booty on the floor. They pack the biscuit in a little envelope now. As if you're going to eat it like a hamburger, on the go. When I'm actually in a can't-stop-can't-sit-down hurry, I don't go for a biscuit. I don't go for pudding or yogurt, either. I go for foods designed for convenience. A stick of butter wrapped in bacon- something sensible like that. Makes its own lube.
Anyway. I unwrapped my saturated and trans fats, and found, at the bottom of the bag, something bizarre. Four little packets of ranch dressing.
I ask you: What was I supposed to do with that ranch dressing? Before you jump to conclusions, remember, KFC mashed potatoes come pre-drenched in gravy. To compound the absurdity, the total volume of ranch dressing exceeded the volume of any food item ordered, excepting the burrito. It was less a condiment than a terrifying bonus side-dish, or beverage.
Hidden valley.
Goes down easy.
Last night I saw a new show on TLC. I really, really shouldn't watch anything from the discovery channel family of programmes. This was called "Honey, We're killing the kids." I was so delighted to be able to watch this show, as it's basically just an hour of belittling families with fat children, without even the warmth, efficiency, effectiveness, or british accent of any of the nanny programs.
I missed the first few minutes of the show, because the celtics were just finishing their brutal, fourth quarter humiliation at the hands of the evil, evil New Jersey Nets. When I tuned in, the thin and perky nutritionist/hostess of the show was giving the family some rules and suggestions for how to make their kids be not such dismal little pigs. (Although, as dismal little pigs go, these were a little more endearing than most. I would have recommended against the etiquette classes, though- they were already tending towards mamma's boyishness)
The new family rules included: Five fruits and vegetables a day. No junk food. No tv in the rooms. Be good. Have a block party and share what you've learned. Seems sensible. Seems like things the british nannies would endorse.
But this program doesn't seem to be engineered for impressive success, like the nanny show. Because impressive success in not making your kids dismal little pigs can't happen in two weeks; behavioral interventions for selected problem behaviors can show success in that period. Punishment and reinforcement act more quickly than caloric restriction and lifestyle change. The other family projects (block party, etiquette lesson) were just gimmicks, to fill time.
And since there could be no success demonstrated in such a short period of time, TLC was left with a boring show. So, like the fine people at Fox (who, if you recall, nearly employed me, so they must be
How?
By making the program the family must follow deliberately more difficult than it needs to be. The first night with the new diet, the father is instructed to make something called "Tofu-onion-bok choy stir fry". Which wouldn't be gross to me, but certainly would be gross to any eight year old who didn't grow up on it. The fat twelve year old rebels. The fat eight year old rebels. The still-miraculously-skinny six year old vomits.
Children don't need to eat Tofu to eat right. A much more palateable program would be more sustainable in the long term- breaded baked chicken tenderloins, roast potato wedges, and a fruit plate would have been a better balanced meal. It's also a much better lesson to learn about portion control with foods that actually taste good.
They also could have substituted the world of cheap indulgences- cookies, mini-muffins- much more successfully by introducing small amounts of great-tasting foods, as a treat- instead of the large volumes of over-sweet crap we pawn off on kids. You find me a kid who would rather mini-muffins for breakfast, oreos with lunch, and an ice cream sandwich for dinner- to a huge, warm, fresh baked cookie right after school. Just one. But a good one. And that's what fat kids have to learn- it's not about volume. Fat kids don't know there's a tomorrow, a later.
And, they could have done more to get active. They could have introduced the kids to a ton of sports and activities to see if they find one they like. Kids like to move. Trampolines. Hikes. Swings. Bikes. Rollerblades. Give a kid a new bike on the day you take away the TV- that works better than just unplugging it.
But unplugging the TV and taking away the cookies sure does cause colorful tantrums.
I think I've shown that "Honey, we're killing the kids" won't really stop anyone from killing their kids.
We can't even stop from killing ourselves. I went to a fast-food restaurant, didn't order anything fried, but didn't even delude myself into beleiving that my meal was healthy. But it wasn't fried. It wasn't buttered. It wasn't covered in cheese. So what did I get, by default?
Four packets of ranch dressing.
Yikes.
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