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I Got Your SuperSize Right Here, Doc

I’m not sure which disturbs me more — that there’s a McDonald’s restaurant in the food court beside the hospital where I work, or that it’s so damned popular with the medical staff. I’m sitting in said food court now, watching the stream of people in scrubs, or white coats, or with stethoscopes and pagers among their accessories, step up to the counter and order up a hot steaming lardy deathburger to go. With fries, naturally.

Now, I’m not a terribly healthy eater myself.

(As I think I’ve already proven.)

So I probably shouldn’t be throwing stones here. Eventually, one of them’s bound to come back and smack me in the fat ass.

(Just for the record, though, I did not partake of the faux beef slop served up at the Mickey D’s. I’m writing this after finishing my chicken breast sandwich from Subway. You know, the ‘less than six grams of fat’ one? Of course, that’s for the six-inch sandwich, and I had the footlong. And those six grams don’t take into account the Swiss cheese or the mayo I had them slap on there. Or the fact that I asked them to deep-fry the lettuce and dip the pickles in bacon grease before they went on the sandwich.

Still, it’s gotta be under… oh, I dunno, sixty grams of fat or so. Sixty-five? Seventy, tops. That’s still less than the cholesto-crap the bitches under the golden arches are serving up. You might as well just jam a straw in a pig’s back and start slurping. Other than the apple pie dessert option, it’d be pretty much the same experience. And probably cheaper.)

Anyway, this isn’t about me, and my self-descructive nincompoopery. (For once.) This time, it’s the doctors I’m concerned with. Look, there are patients running around this place.

(Well, okay, to be fair, most of them don’t really ‘run’. They shuffle, or limp, or amble along. But this is not about how well, or quickly, they perambulate, either. Just that they’re here. So focus, goddammit. I’m trying to make a point here.)

I’m just saying, doesn’t it seem odd for the doctors and nurses to spend all morning proverbially smacking their patients’ little hands for not eating right, or exercising, or wearing any underwear (hey, you don’t know what goes on in those free walk-in clinics, all right?), and then hopping on the Fat Wagon for a Double Whopper with extra moo fat? Somehow, that just doesn’t seem right. It’s like Bill Gates giving money to charity, or Anna Nicole Smith doing ads for Slimfast.

(Not the ‘old’ Anna, who could’ve maybe gotten away with that. I mean the ‘new’, super-sized Anna. Or as I like to call her, ‘Anna an’ a half’. Eek.)

Maybe I’m making an arbitrary distinction in singling out hospital employees. Maybe I’m asking too much, or even being unreasonable. Hell, it’s happened before; just ask my wife.

(Though if she brings up that thing with the ‘French maid outfit’ again, don’t listen to her. Look, it was my birthday, and we’d been drinking, and it’s a pretty common fantasy. Back me up here, guys. I don’t think there was anything ‘unreasonable‘ about that.

I just wish I could’ve found a bigger thong to wear under my apron. I still have chafe marks down there. Plus all that lace was really tickly and distracting.

Um… ahem. Moving on, then.)

What I’m talking about is a higher standard. (For doctors, mind you, not thongs. Let it go. Just… let it go.) I’m not saying healthcare practitioners have to be perfect, by any means. I don’t expect them to be nutritional tightasses all the time. But for heaven’s sake, shouldn’t they indulge their fatty fantasies in a more private place?

(And if any of you have any lewd comments about ‘indulging fatty fantasies in private’… just don’t. You know what I mean. Let that go, too. Man, you people are a handful today!)

(‘Handful’? Got something for that, too? All right, that’s it — I think you need a time out. Geez, get your mind out of the gutter, would you?)

I just think the docs should be a little more sensitive to the example they’re setting, when their patients are sitting there among them, chomping down broccoli and lettuce and styrofoam and whatever other rabbit food shit they put in those salad thingies. How do people do that, anyway? It’s like eating a damned putting green. Who wants to do that? Have you ever seen someone eating a salad who looked happy? ‘Cause I sure haven’t.

And that’s why I think it’s insensitive — nay, downright rude — for the hospital folks to load up on burgers and fries right there by the workplace. It’s not really fair, now, is it? I think they should at least work out some sort of code — maybe for the ‘to go’ orders — that at least makes it seem that they’re setting a good example. Then maybe you’d hear something like:

McWeenie: Hi, welcome to McDonald’s! May I take your order?

Man in Lab Coat: Um, yes. I’d like the ‘special salad‘, please.

McWeenie: The ‘special salad‘?

Man in Lab Coat: That’s right, the ‘special salad‘. I’m a doctor.

McWeenie: Ahhhhh, the ‘Special Doctor Salad‘. Yes, sir.

Man in Lab Coat: With bacon —

McWeenie: That’s ‘tofu strips‘ —

Man in Lab Coat: And extra cheese.

McWeenie: Sir, shhhhh. Be cool. That’s double ‘heart-healthy soy slices‘. Check.

Man in Lab Coat: Sorry. I’m new at the hospital.

McWeenie: No problem, sir. Now then. Would you like… ahem, ‘carrot sticks‘ with that?

Man in Lab Coat: Are those golden-brown ‘carrot sticks‘?

McWeenie: Yes, sir.

Man in Lab Coat: Oh, then absolutely. In fact, could you McSuperSize the ‘carrot sticks‘?

McWeenie: Yes, sir. And to drink?

Man in Lab Coat: I’ll have the… oh, what’s it called… the ‘frozen health nog‘?

McWeenie: Okay — and what flavor of ‘health nog‘ would you like?

Man in Lab Coat: Er… well… what are the options again?

McWeenie: We have the ‘fiber nog‘ and the ‘vitamin nog‘.

Man in Lab Coat: Oh. Um. I see.

Man in Lab Coat: (whispering) Which one’s the chocolate shake, again?

McWeenie: (whispering) The ‘fiber‘.

Man in Lab Coat: I’ll have the ‘fiber nog‘, then, please.

McWeenie: Yes, sir. Your total is seven dollars and twelve cents.

Man in Lab Coat: Here you go. And well worth it for such a healthy, nutritious meal.

Man in Lab Coat: (whispering) Dude, you made the brown one ‘fiber‘? That’s so gross.

Yeah, maybe it’s not worth the effort. Maybe things are fine the way they are, as long as the docs don’t cop an attitude about it. I don’t want to see them flaunting their fatburgers all over the place, waving them in other people’s faces — ‘I got the cheeeeese-burger, and you don’t goooot none! You cannot eeeeat it, ’cause you are on the Lipitor! Nah nah nah naaaaa nah!‘

Eh, maybe I’m just jealous. I’m trying to be healthier myself, and I know I don’t appreciate seeing those bastards sitting there, with greasy globs of cow goo dripping down from their smug self-satisfied smiles. Asswipes.

But I suppose they’re entitled to eat whatever the hell they like. It’s a free country. Still, I hope they all get grease poisoning, and have their stomachs slowly, painfully pumped dry. Repeatedly. And then be put on strict boring vegan diets, with nothing but soy paste and romaine lettuce to eat for the rest of their lives. Is that wrong of me?