To draw a metaphor from those delectable morsels of deep-fried potato I so love; some people are small, some are medium, others are large and others are super-sized. In the same respect, some people are cheap, greasy and love getting dunked in ketchup.

According to an extensive five-sentence article in AM NewYork, “Americans are getting fatter.” To paraphrase that CliffNote of an article, “Tweens, Teens, X-ers, Boomers and Golden Oldies are packing on pounds as if we were planning a national hibernation. We’re finding all the weight Karen Carpenter lost and we’re growing in girth faster than Veruca Salt after a piece of Wonka Three-Course Dinner gum. The question to ask though is, “Is this really so unhealthy?”

Everyday something that’s supposed to be bad for us (wine, cheese, beer, dark chocolate, Howard Stern) turns out to be somewhat good for us. Case in point; after years of telling people that the foundation of their lives should be carbohydrates, the FDA leveled the food chain and issued the statement, “Whoops, our bad.”

Sooner or later General Surgeon (the supreme Surgeon General) will admit that it’s not how long you live, but how happy you are while you live that counts, and since all fat people are universally jolly (ie. , Santa Claus, etc.)… perhaps being morbidly obese to the point that your sweat can be bottled and sold as a top-shelf marinade, is the quintessential definition of “Health.”

Changing cultural perception of “Healthy vs. You’re gonna die soon” is a large undertaking, and if everyone is getting bigger, and I’m staying the same size…I think the first step should be to have the garment industry implement a new sizing scale. I understand that I’m large, but I don’t think I’m “extra large.”

While lunching with a team of Middle School students last week, Jason Goyim (Roslyn High School, Class of 2009) expressed perfectly my sentiments.

”Bradley,” he said, “you’re large…but you’re not large-large.” Jason then confessed to like-liking Stephanie Shitztinks, who goes ga-ga over any man with a last name better than her own. Unfortunately, this put Jason at a disadvantage.

Understanding that the last name barrier is a difficult one to conquer, I suggested he leave it alone and remedy other potential issues she might have with him, like how he continually shoots Snapple through his nostrils and pronounces himself, “Flah-Grah: The God of Passion Fruit,” every morning in homeroom to express his affection.

The conversation ended when Charlotte, the kind-hearted recess aid, whipped out her mace and escorted me off school grounds. While she and I were on our way towards the parking lot, I continued the discussion of size and asked for her input.

This being the first time anyone ever asked Charlotte to speak though, she launched into an explanation that even though she was 91 years old, when she was in her 20s she had real feelings for “a strapping negro boy named Willie.” Charlotte asked that if I saw him, that I please tell him “she’d love to have that dance.”

I agreed and we both concluded that if 60% of the nation is overweight, and the bell-curve is starting to look bloated, perhaps I’m actually a “medium.”

For those in the reading audience with any ties to the garment industry, what follows are my suggestions for a total revamping of the clothing size scale. My new size scale, if implemented, would be as follows: (listed in descending order)
1) Extra-Large
2) Not-too Large
3) Large
4) Bordering on Large
5) Used to be a medium
6) Medium
7) Just reintroduced carbs
8) Still in keytosis
9) Lanky
10) Scrawny and insignificant

Using this new classification of bodily girth, average American’s won’t feel inherently discriminated against when purchasing clothing. A comfort level will be reached within society where no person, such as myself, will feel ashamed that all their money is spent on burritos and porn, and from this sliding qualitative scale, the country’s tolerance of obesity will grow in direct proportion to the national waist-size.

America is great and big, and apparently, so are its citizens. So don’t fear fat or its people, embrace them, hold them on high for being huggy-bear patriots, and realize that after a regime change at Abercrombie and Fitch, and a simple board meeting vote, the last shall be first, the first shall be last, and I’ll finally be a svelte medium.