My husband is a weight loss doctor. He’s very passionate about weight loss. He’s on boards and committees all around the country. He speaks and lectures about the best ways to lose weight and to maintain it. And he recently informed me that in three years, he hopes to be president of the national bariatric society. Which, I decided, will make me the First Lady of Weight Loss.
This, of course, is a dream position for a woman in her 40s whose metabolism is on permanent vacation. I cannot wait until the nation turns to me as their weight loss Nancy Reagan.
I immediately began to ponder my upcoming role. Will there be an inauguration? If so, what should I wear? A pill-box hat and pearls? A pant suit? Everyone will surely look to me for fashion trends. Can I wear yoga pants? Sweats?
Do I have to pick a platform to push? What would it be? Just say no to drugs? (Um, no.) Michelle Obama is doing a great job singing and dancing with vegetables, so healthy eating is off the table. What was Mary Todd Lincoln’s platform? Did they have those back then?
Do we move into a special weight loss white house? I don’t want to have to pack my stuff again. Does it count that we just painted our kitchen cabinets white? Will I have to host foreign weight loss leaders in my home? Can I just make everyone sloppy joes? Do I have to get another dog?
I sat and thought about all of the good work I could do as the first lady of weight loss. I could make a national campaign to end the posting of unflattering selfies. I could banish all people who drive slow to Florida.
But I don’t feel that that would be making good use of my power.
Suddenly it hit me: my main objective. My very own Betty Ford clinic. My personal “whatever the hell Barbara Bush’s legacy was.” It will be called the “let kids be kids again” initiative. Upon my coronation, I will make it a law that kids only be allowed to do activities only one hour a week. There will be no competitive teams. Weekend competitions will be abolished. No child will be forced to declare their “thing” by age 5. Kids will simply be allowed to have fun, with the understanding that they are spending these years figuring out ALL of the cool “things” that exist in this world.
Today, I am simply the Duchess of weight loss. The princess of weight loss. The ambassador to the country of weight loss. But when my time as First Lady comes, America better get ready.
Not only will it be okay for children everywhere to wear pajamas and slippers all weekend long, but it will be perfectly acceptable (and fashionable) for their mothers to be wearing them too.