My girlfriend Steph is a yoga instructor. Our local newspaper asked for an interview. They asked lots of questions and took lots of pictures, but left out one little detail: they didn't tell her the real purpose of the story. So the morning the paper came out, she rushed to get her copy, as did everyone she had proudly alerted to the story, only to find her gorgeous picture sitting beneath the words:
Fit and Fat. As you can imagine, she sat in her parked car and cried. Bastards. The story was all about how, gasp, women even up to a size 14 can manage to touch their toes without keeling over of a heart attack.
Meanwhile, I'm a size six. People probably would look at me and think I'm in decent shape, but in reality, I couldn't run to the corner without gasping for breath.
However, society reverses the assumptions when looking at a baby or toddler. In that case, skinny most certainly means sickly, but fat means Keep Up The Good Work Mama!
When my ds was 17 and a half pounds at his first birthday, our neighbor turned us in for child abuse, stating that you can count his ribs, he can't weigh 15 pounds soaking wet, he looks malnourished,
. Yes, she was raising a chubby, formula fed boy. A year later, my boy has had two little colds. Period. Her boy had all sorts of ordinary childhood ailments, including at least 8 ear infections and eventual tubes.
Ironic, huh?
PS, If you have a story along these lines, either as an adult or in regard to one of your kids, maybe I can compile them in some kind of article.
