Our sweet Sawyer Puppy--who is in Dog Heaven now after a good long life of swimming at the lake, hunting baby squirrels in the back yard, and playing with her fur siblings in our living room--was half beagle and half lab. We called her a "blab". Dang, that girl could eat. I've never known a dog with such a voracious appetite. I'd feed her at the same time I'd feed our other dog, Earl, a Great Pyrenees-mix. I'd set Earl's bowl down first, then Sawyer's, and by the time I took two steps toward the sink to wash my hands, Sawyer would be by my side, staring up with a look on her face that said, "More?" Her bowl would be empty in the time it took Earl to nibble one or two bits of kibble. Sawyer gave meaning to the term "wolf down her food." She loved to chew--bones, peanut butter Kongs, wooden dining room chair legs--but when it came time for dinner there was no chewing involved. More like inhaling.
Sawyer was pretty tubby, but it never slowed her down. She got a little arthritis in her old age, as many dogs (and people) of all sizes do, but she loved to swim and chase squirrels in her last few days as much as she did in her first. Here's the last video I have of her swimming at the lake.
I, too, am pretty tubby, but it doesn't slow me down, either. Sometimes my big boobs and fat belly literally get in the way when I'm attempting to do some physical feat. I'm a storytime librarian, so I do a lot of up and down, bottom-on-the-floor to back-on-our-feet-and-dancing moves at work. I'm not as agile as most of the kids. I'm also old enough to be their grandmother. It might take me a few seconds longer to get up off the floor than it does a three-year-old, but that doesn't stop me. I had to wear two sports bras at a time to keep my girls from smacking me in the face when I coached third grade girls basketball. Probably the worst way my big boobs get in the way is this: sometimes when I'm asleep, I roll over and one of my boobs rests on my neck in a way that causes me to snore. It's not so bad I need a CPAP, or a breast reduction. It's mostly just comical to open my eyes, my husband elbowing me awake, and finding a boob trying to suffocate me. "Death by big boob asphyxiation," I imagine my obituary will read.
My big belly is a different story. I'm not quite as comfortable with it yet. I haven't learned to live with a big belly for as long as I've lived with big boobs. In my teens and twenties, I was one of those fat chicks who still had an hourglass figure like some of my thinner counterparts, just a bigger vessel. Or, saddlebag thighs, depending of whether you thought I was hot or gross. At the time, I thought I was gross. Now I look back at old photos and I'm all, "Wow! Hey, Hottie!" Too bad me-now can't go back in time and tell me-then to quit wasting time worrying about my appearance. There are far too many wrongs to right in the world to spend time worrying if your butt looks cottage cheesy in that skirt.
My big belly sprouted after I gave birth to my daughter. Dude, seriously. I still have maternity pants that fit me and my daughter is in sixth grade. I don't blame my daughter for my big belly. In fact, I kinda like it when we're relaxing after a busy day at work and school, and she rests her head upon my big belly as we talk and laugh together.
What I don't like about my big belly is this: it sometimes throws me off balance. Like, after my daughter lifts her head from my belly and gets off the couch to say, go feed the pets, and it's time for me to say, go to the bathroom, sometimes I have to make a couple of attempts to heave myself up off the couch. Sometimes I have to kinda rock back and forth a bit to propel myself forward. Like a pregnant lady. Like a forty-six year old pregnant lady. Yikes!
There are a lot of pregnant ladies that come into the library for storytime with their older children. I wear my big belly in solidarity with them. Girl, I understand how your back hurts. I get that you have to pack an extra pair of panties in your purse for those times after a big sneeze makes you wet your pants like your toddler because your big belly keeps pushing on your bladder. I like to think that those extra few seconds it takes me to transition from the floor to my feet during storytime helps the pregnant moms keep from feeling embarrassed.
It's funny that lots of women get a bigger belly both during and after pregnancy. I think it's Mother Nature's way of preparing us for that turtle-stuck-on-its-back feeling we'll experience during our child's formative years when we have no clue what we're doing.
Go ahead and laugh. It is funny. It doesn't mean you should lecture me about healthy eating and exercise, or concern troll me on Facebook, or make fat phobic comments behind my back. I'm fat. Big deal. Treat me with dignity and respect, like everyone else.
Back to the headline about labs and their big appetites. Science Explains Why Your Lab Is Always Hungry
From the article: "Common genetic variants affecting the POMC gene are associated with human body weight and there are even some rare obese people who lack a very similar part of the POMC gene to the one that is missing in the dogs."
I'm no scientist, but I think what this article is saying is that I'm part Labrador. It makes sense. My maternal great-grandfather is from Nova Scotia. Isn't that by Labrador Island? I love to swim. And, I tend to knock things over with my behind when I get excited. That's just on my mom's side. When I was in second grade, we were doing a report on where our ancestors came from. I asked where my dad's side of the family comes from and Mom said, "Wales." My immediate thought was, "Oh, that explains why everyone in Dad's family is so fat. We're from whales."
Science can teach us a lot about hunger, and human diversity. But only a sense of humor, humility, and humanity can make us good people who love and respect each other regardless of how fat or how thin we are.
