Weighing in on the blame game

   Society seems to foster the notion that whenever anything goes wrong in our lives, it’s someone else’s fault. In no way should we have to shoulder the responsibility for our own failings. At one time I strongly disagreed with this notion, but in my later years I’ve come to discover how easy and harmless it is to just point the finger at someone else.

   Take for example this little roll that’s developed around my middle. The same middle that twice fit into a wedding dress with a 22”waist. How could this possibly be happening to me? Don’t they say it’s all about exercise and diet? I eat well. I exercise – well, maybe not as much as I should, but if I admit too much here, I may have to take responsibility for my middle management problem, which would be counterproductive to what this column is all about.
So I checked out some books from the library. I thought certainly somebody out there discovered ways others things to blame this on other than exercise and diet. And I was right.

   Dr. Will Clower, in his book The French Don’t Diet Plan, mentioned religious faith as a contributing factor in weight control. He said people who believe in something greater than themselves tend to find fulfillment there and do not turn to alternate sources like food for satisfaction. Well, my spiritual life hasn’t been suffering, but this did make me wonder about the high obesity rate among children today. The schools allow no way for students to feed their souls, yet teachers and counselors treat kids to daily doses of candy and the administration makes available ice cream for an afternoon snack. But I digress. I’m not seeking someone to blame for kids being fat. I’m seeking someone to blame for my getting fat.

   Dr. Clower also said that sitting down together and eating as a family is a great stress reducer and can help guard against weight gain. I stopped and thought about that one. When our boys were home for dinner for Mothers Day and Fathers Day it was so relaxing to sit together and catch up on our lives. And it was fun reminiscing about all the fun we’d all had while they were growing up. Then I thought back to how it was when they were still in school and how we made a point of eating dinner together every night. And I thought about those days when waist management was never an issue.

   Then I got to thinking some more. We don’t see the kids as much as we’d like. So maybe they’re to blame for my expanding middle. If they’d come home for dinner more often, maybe their mama wouldn’t be so fat.

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