As I jumped from plane to plane, terminal to terminal today on my way back to America, I couldn’t help but notice how fat most Americans seemed to be. The English couldn’t, as the fifth-graders I once tutored so eloquently states, “hula-hoop with a Cheerio,” but a lot of Americans I saw in various airports today couldn’t hula-hoop with an airplane wheel. I’d forgotten how chubby our populace could be – the Topman shops sold an extra small sized shirt, an option that made relatively thing me feel self-concious. Compared to most of Europe, we are a rolly-polly place.
And then I ordered a double cheeseburger dripping with sauce and onions from famed Southern California burger juggernaut In ‘N’ Out, and bit into the meaty creation and then chased it down with french fries (not chips). I could feel my stomach tense up.
God bless America and all its fatty food. I had forgotten how incredible it could be. If being spherical is a crime, give me death.
