Baby Body Building

While so much has been in the news lately concerning the obesity levels in children there is another threat that often goes unreported but demands just as much attention. I'm speaking of course, of baby body building, and the lengths to which some children will go to achieve the perfect, sculpted body. 

It started, of course, in Scandinavia and just reinforces all of the stereotypes already held about the classic Scandinavian. I will admit something that I'm not proud of, but it needs to be said so that we may have a more honest discussion concerning American/Scandinavian relations. Even though I don't actually have a girlfriend right now, I am afraid that if I theoretically did, and my theoretical girlfriend was leaving work late at night from the job she may or may not have, she would be confronted by a group of Scandinavians who would proceed to flex down in front of her, impressing her so much she would dump me, leaving me just as single as I already am. Such is the fear the Swedish and Danish strike into me.

This is not about that, though. This is about the all consuming obsession that ruined my childhood and stunted my growth. I'm 6'2, but there is no telling how tall I might be otherwise. Perhaps six foot three, or perhaps twelve feet. I don't know. I'm not a scientist. I tell you the story today, and although it will be painful, I hope that it will prevent this from happening again.

It all started when I was born American, in America, the land of hope and Happy Meals. At birth I weighed a very healthy 10 lbs 7 oz. A great start for growing up to be the obese American suffering from heart disease Thomas Jefferson envisioned when writing the public school lunch program. I had every opportunity to grow up fat, but my meddling parents prevented it. I was raised on fruits, vegetables, lean meat and dairy. McDonald's was only a "treat" once a month. It was as bad as it sounds. I was encouraged to go "play outside". It was twisted. Early on my parents noticed I had the peculiar habit of doing pull ups and crunches each night before bed. They thought it was cute.

It wasn't cute to me...to me...it was...an addiction.

(I'm really sorry the last sentence didn't warrant all of those ellipses, I'm just trying to add a little drama to the mix. Writing authorities state adding a little drama to the mix always results in a better reading experience and since I don't have enough energy to try to get you emotionally invested in this through rich characters and plot development I like to throw in ellipses now and then to thicken up the soup a bit. It's a pretty neat gag, as you might be able to tell from the following bit of dialogue.

Women: But John, wait...
Man (John?): What is it...Lucille.
Woman (Lucille?): There is something I need to tell you...
John (apparently): Don't try to tell me you're pregnant because I'm...I'm a....Unic.
Lucille (She looks more like a Jennifer, if you ask me): No it's not that...It's that...well...you have a booger hanging from your nose.

Fin.

And now you know why ellipses add more drama)


At the age of 6 months I could do eleven one-armed pull ups. By 36 weeks I had abs that you could do your laundry on. I was in pretty deep at this point and didn't know any better, I didn't know anything but a healthy lifestyle, I thought it was  the way that you were supposed to live. My parents went so far as to put a mirror over my crib so I could practice my pose downs before my afternoon nap.

I won't lie, I was addicted to the lifestyle. The money, the cars, the fast women. It catches up with you after a while though. There aren't any short cuts in life. Especially when you haven't even been alive for 2 years. I won my first few competitions pretty easily, then I got cocky. I thought it was going to last forever. I should have known better. I thought placing second in the baby bench press was a fluke. Then I didn't even qualify for the Baby Universe competition. Things went all downhill from there. I got dropped from my endorsements when news leaked I wasn't sharing my toys at day care. I hit the bottle pretty hard - 2% milk, not even skim - and I was eating up to 95 cheerios a day. At nineteen months old I was a has been.

It took me a long time to pick up the shambles. Some of things I did during that time well, they aren't worth mentioning now. My past is my past. It might be the kind of story you hear on Oprah, but then again I wouldn't know, I've never actually watched an episode of Oprah, although I heard she was really nice.

I'm 27 years old now and have gotten myself together for the most part. I wasn't meant to be a baby body builder after all. Today, as a well adjusted adult, I'm able to pursue my true calling...that of the Ninja Pirate Astronaut.