Behind Morbidly Obese lies one Giant Fat Joke

There are three clear stages of life leading the way in America: normal weight, overweight, and obese. Following closely is morbidly obese, slowly but surely catching up to the pack, hungry for that delicious fourth place finish in a way that science still can’t explain. Still, a fifth contender has emerged in this race, one far heavier than each of its forerunners. Even so, this anonymous competitor continues to stagger forward at a nearly fatal pace, beating hefty odds for an even beefier chance to give America a bigger, rounder shape. Such a colossal effort deserves a name of its own.

The word obese has lost its weight. The scales have always tipped in favor of the double-plus sized, but now that the country’s obese outnumber the merely overweight, those scales read off the charts. Something must change before they simply break.

Obese can no longer meaningfully describe a person weighing 20% or more above their recommended weight. Typical of American society, the visual distinctions among normal weight, overweight, and obese are as easy to pick apart as the petals on a deep-fried blooming onion. Beyond that, however, cellulitic lines begin to blur.

Obesity rates have dramatically gained over the past 20 years. (The South proudly boasts the fattest people in the world’s fattest developed country.) It’s no wonder why scientists felt the need to classify another body size and give identity to this ever, ever-growing section of America. As it turns out, tacking the adjective “morbidly” to an already morbid condition creates little distinction between obesity and its slightly-more-depressing successor.

Is it fair to a 300 pound person that a 700 pound person gets squeezed into the same category? Yeah, didn’t think so. That 400 pound difference deserves a league of its own. It’s an elephant in the room that’s hard to ignore, even when surrounded by its similarly-sized human friends.

More than a third of the country’s adult population confirm that obese is the new skinny, so what exactly is the new obese?It’s when that perfectly capable man hops on the electric cart at Target, expectedly fulfilling the lazy habits that brought on his size in the first place. It’s when that one plus-sized classmate uses the elevator instead of unimaginably walking up the 10 steps of stairs.

To me, obese only still describes two things: when a person is so unusually large that they get their own TLC show or when someone’s laziness directly causes their size. The latter has remained unchallenged for so long that America has a better chance of electing a minority lesbian in an interracial relationship for president than of reversing that unfortunate mindset. Therefore, focus lies on the former. We know what it looks like (gross), and we try not to imagine what it smells like (even grosser).  Now it’s time to give it a name.

Lardassian accurately captures the alien-like essence that accompanies being fused to a chair. Dimples paints a light, fluffy picture, almost like hand-whipped cream except not really because whipping cream by hand takes effort that a Dimple wastes on trying to not to die. Whoa-bese, as in “Woah. Obese,” easily establishes the wow factor that comes with that massive amount of fatty flesh, a size and consistency equal only to my ego while writing this.

Come to think of it, there’s already a name for the morbidly, morbidly obese. It’s marked on a gravestone by that triple XL hole in the ground, usually beginning with high blood pressure, type 2 diabetes, heart disease, macular degeneration, or cancer and ending with something like “R.I.P.”