Running Off the Chin Bone When Dude Outside Has a Gun

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October 18, 2010

My mom used to take me to Mervyns to get "husky" jeans. My mom tried to sugar coat this embarrassing ritual by telling me I was big boned.

After Mervyns, we would stop by my grandma's house to show her what we bought. My grandmother, God rest her soul, spent much of her time with a drink in her hand. She also spent a lot of her life disagreeing with my mom. So, when mom told me I wasn't fat, but big boned, my grandma would always say: "But, Patty, there's no bone in that huge chin of his." Grandma would then tell me to "stop being lazy, and go run off the chin." And so, I would play in my neighborhood---playing basketball, or biking, or whatever.

A couple things have happened the past 20 years: 

Grandma is God's problem now. 

I've run off most of that chin. (Or at least I like to pretend that's true.) 

Some of California's neighborhoods have become so dangerous, it appears kids can't run their chins thin without risking getting their head blown off.

Statistically, the population most likely to live in the crummiest, crime ridden zip codes, tend to be obeseAcademics are looking at whether there is a relationship between bullets and belly fat. Basically, the idea goes: if kids can't play, they'll get fat.

But studies have been mixed, with most showing no dice.

(And then there's this study showing criminals tend to be obese. I'm not sure what to make of that---Is it because known ---i.e. caught--- criminals are too heavy to get away?)

My project looks at whether there is a relationship between crime and obesity among kids, and if so, why. Some organizations, which I'll name later---are betting there is. Maybe not, though. My Grandma also said "You can't make a Manhattan until the whiskey is in your hand."

We'll see if the whiskey is there.  

Speaking of grandma, I'll blog tomorrow about the other project I'll pursue for this fellowship. It's all about nursing homes and assisted living facilities, and the post will totally rock your socks.

Or prompt you to fold the laundry.