I have a theory as to why America has gotten so obese.

Even our children have become little porkers. I can’t remember more than one person in my elementary school class that was overweight thirty-some years ago. Of course, that one poor little fat kid that we nicknamed “Hunky Chunky Monkey” was excoriated ruthlessly by the rest of us thinner children in the name of comic relief. The only thing more interesting to talk about was Alana. She was the only other classmate aside from the chunky one who required a bra. She was popular BECAUSE her chest was fat, not despite it.

The rise in per capita weight within the citizenry coincides with the decline of the teen pregnancy rate. Kids are binging still, but no longer upon one another. In the 1980s carnal snacking was quite the rage and created unwanted babies at an alarming rate. Kids were plopped onto the planet by unwed child-mothers who had the bodies of sticks and all of the sensuality of salmon swimming upstream. Somehow the boy population in those days didn’t need anything more than to share their testosterone with the nearest girl as a societal pressure relief valve. The action was like a stick-figure porno movie.

This phenomenon is not that different than what you find in marriages today.

At the beginning, newlyweds are bumping and grinding like rabbits. You can tell who’s a recently married couple by simply taking a walk around the neighborhood on a few successive nights. The houses you hear all of those strange noises coming from all of the time are the ones with the bride and groom actively romping through their pleasure room. Listen long enough and you’ll hear performing feats of spectacular delight with a repertoire befitting its own chapter in the Kama Sutra.

Once the children start arriving for a couple, the libido death knell is sounded. The ladies usually lose interest; the men forget what made them famous in the courtship, and focus more on how to land their lips around the tip of a longneck bottle of beer.

Then after a period of time couples start to swallow all of the pent-up sexual frustration. Just because there is no getting-it-on in great frequency anymore doesn’t mean the hormones don’t still rage. They replace their favorite activities with a different sensory stimulation geared totally toward the taste buds.

With the world of processed high-fat foods, the next thing you find is that the nine months of gestation is replaced by nine months of ingestion resulting in that mound above your waistline; it isn’t a baby belly, it’s a beer belly. The guys compete with their ladies to see whose can be the biggest!

They are doing their moves on a box of frosted flakes, a bowl of ice cream, a load of Oreo cookies, and a box of donuts instead of upon their spouse. You’ll notice that the ones gaining weight are on the down slope of the Saturday night love-machine frolics, while the ones getting in shape are getting in the hay most often.
Note that silent skinny person in the neighborhood; they don’t talk because they’re hoarse from all of that midnight noise between the sheets. They’re happy and making it, laughing all the way to the Lovin’ Times store for more supplies.

Staying in shape certainly means more than it used to in our modern society, and now you know where one needs to be to properly exercise mind, body, and demons. The bedroom is America’s gymnasium and playground. More couples need to get back to using it regularly.

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Giosue’ Santarelli is a prolific political columnist, humor columnist, and feature writer who has been scribbling for nearly 40 years. Visit his humor column website “The Devil’s Advocate” at www.devilsadvocate111.blogspot.com.