If instead, we treated obesity more like drowning, we would tell the truth about food. We would not market multicolored marshmallows to children as part of a complete breakfast. We would not willfully mislead about the perilous currents in the modern food supply. We would not look on passively as an entire population of non-swimmers started wading in over their heads.
I remember that red lollipop like I wasn't six-years-old then and 46 now. Before being bestowed that glistening cellophane-wrapped, ruby-red, cherry-sweet consolation prize, I was just a little kid trapped in a world of grown-ups who hated themselves for reasons they were too ill-equipped to identify.
Don't get me wrong, I was thrilled I had lost 100 pounds. But I didn't suddenly know my purpose or feel my life had meaning or view my circumstances with a new lens or think I was now beautiful. Every doubt, worry, or longing I had before I lost weight was still there. I wish I had known that's how things would end up being.