Saturday, January 16, 2010

Thighs Does Matter

Here at the Bureau of Thigh Grievances, we like to stand by the old adage that goes, "Just when you think all is right with the world, a thigh grievance will come along and rock the very foundation on which you stand." I know this to be true because it happened to me just yesterday, when I was reading the news. This was in itself an unsettling affair because, here in my current country of residence (France), the news tends to be in the local language (French). I don't know about you, but I think this is a national trick designed to deter everyone else from reading the local news, so that deep dark national secrets can be spilled entre eux,* on the inner pages foreigners never get to, like this:



So my usual method for reading the local news goes something like this: I pick a French article at random, usually something semi-intellectual, such as the one about the local politician who recently - and I hope you won't think I'm flaunting my knowledge of national affairs here - did something. Then I will remark, in cultured tones, "Huh."** Then I will look around, realize no one is actually listening, and let out a big old ugly rude massive phlegm-filled American yawn before I switch to articles in English about thigh issues.

Which brings me to the article from way back at the beginning of this thought.*** The headline, which I reprint verbatim, is:


When I saw this my heart pretty much sank to the plafond, which is French for "floor" or possibly "ceiling" if you want to get all academic about it. Because here's the thing. There is a certain group of gendered persons - to protect their identity, we'll call them "omen-way" - who are bound, on seeing such a headline, to experience great anguish. I speak in particular for those of us who are especially young and vapid, who devote the greater part of our very existences to the maintenance of non-thick thighs, who care about world thigh issues far more than, say, the economy.**** Now, all of a sudden, we find ourselves faced with the choice between - correct me if I'm wrong here - fat thighs and death.

The article goes on to destroy our lives further by explaining that - and I stress again that I have changed nothing here - "Carrying fat on the hips, thighs, and bum ... has a range of health benefits and actively protects against diabetes and heart disease. ... [Whereas] belly fat ... releases molecules called cytokines which trigger inflammation - raising the risk of diabetes and heart disease ... fat carried on the thighs traps these harmful fatty acids and stops them from latching on the liver and causing a range of problems, including insulin resistance."

You hear what they're telling you? Do you? Your body, even as you read this, crawls with evil little critters, Scrubbing Bubbles gremlin-style, who will INVADE YOUR PERSONAL LIVER unless you eat enough fatty things that OHHH NOOOOO THE THIGH TRAP OF DOOM will hold them at bay. In other words, it's high time we all hit the Double-Stuf Oreos or else MEET OUR MAKER. Yes! Seriously! And what's worse, the purveyor of this news is none other than the Discovery Channel. Yes. There is no room for doubt. This is, after all, the same Discovery Channel that shows MythBusters, the highly educational television program wherein scientific-minded individuals seek to communicate seminal technological principles by means of blowing stuff up and laughing at it a lot; the same Discovery Channel that was responsible for manufacturing my sister's mechanical tyrannosaurus -- "Noonan" -- who serves the educational purpose of lumbering around mechanically and growling. So naturally their information is above doubt.

Me, it makes me feel old. I can remember a time (3:30) when carrying around excess fat on any part of your body came with certain health risks itself. Now I learn it really works like this: eat fatty stuff, and you die. Don't eat fatty stuff, and - are you still with me? - you die.

And yet, and yet, there is a certain glimmer of hope, in that the next article on the same website is entitled "Parasitic Wasps' Genome May Yield New Drugs." This would appear to be highly suspicious, n'est-ce pas?***** Again, I can't speak for YOU, but I personally would no more take parasitic wasp pills than I would drink out of the toilet. So maybe, just maybe, the whole thigh thing is rot, too. But there's only one way to find out. We have to confront the Discovery Channel people, to assail them with our questions, to make them give us answers. Because we at the Bureau of Thigh Grievances mean business. We don't want suggestions. We want facts. Cold, hard, facts.

And if all else fails, I'm bringing out the Big Guns. That's right. I'm going to sic Noonan on them.

* This is French. It means "between eux."
** Like this: "Huh."
*** You remember it.
**** Which is handled here in France by: a guy.
***** This is French. It means "between eux."

©2010 Nicola McEldowney

No comments: