There are many things that remind me that I’m back in America when I return from a trip abroad. These include yellow Crown Victoria cabs waiting to pick up weary travelers and soft sesame bagels with cream cheese. However, there is one thing that always tells me, without a doubt, that I’ve returned to America. Obesity.
It’s everywhere: the rotund security guard at the flight gate, the triple-chinned customs official, that lady in the pink sweat-suit waddling over to Ben & Jerry’s. A Frenchman might return to Charles de Gaulle International, smell freshly baked French pastries, and get that distinct sensation that he has returned to the motherland. I get that same feeling when I witness someone devour two entire sleeves of oreos en route to baggage claim.
Our culture of supersized meals, cars, and desk-bound jobs has created a perfect storm of empty calories and sedentary lifestyles that make us lethargic and bloated. I know this because I was once like that – I speak from experience as a “former fat guy.”
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