At least nobody here in the nation's certified midsection is losing any weight over it. What with some population loss in the census, we're pretty happy our total mass is holding steady. On balance, if we're anything, it's not too fat, it's too friendly; When a guy at the mall (and he must be from around here with that rear end) carrying a clipboard (with no checks clamped on it) stops us and asks if we have a minute, we're not going to lie, even if the nachos start to set up some. Anyway, sometimes they give you coupons for Cheez-Whiz for answering. So yes, we could stand to lose a few, who couldn't?

Next thing you know, a front page spinning like a propeller stops to reveal the headline "America's Fattyland," complete with a picture from behind the self-same couple at the mall who, granted, had no business wearing shorts anyway. Then USA Today splashes a three-color graphic of the state as an oven mitt pulling a casserole out of Canada across their fold, along with a sausage bar graph showing Wisconsin as the whole kielbasa.

What the surveys don't measure are large bones. A lot of us in Wisconsin are large-boned. That's the price you pay for wonderful personalities. Put large bones together, you get big frames, the better with which to see the big picture. The Native Americans who were here, the French, the Germans, and the Scandinavians who came, all had one thing in common: big frames. When they saw other people with big frames, they knew they were in the right place. A big frame can carry weight, and what it can't goes into an Oshkosh B'Gosh anyway. In fact, you probably wouldn't have known it was in there at all if you hadn't asked. Unless, of course, you're one of those outside fatigators.