Two fat stories from my week: a death and a tragedy I work with a guy who coaches high school kids. This weekend he's going to the funeral of the father of one of his players. The kid is only 15, his dad was only 45. FORTY-FIVE. Died of a heart attack. And, of course, he was morbidly obese. I hope that poor kid learns a lesson: never become a fat dad who loves food more than his family.  The next one is a real tragedy... Another coworker, a mom, confided in me about her daughter who is getting FAT. It's been a slow process... At first, she told me, she was always a little "thicker" but her fat distribution was fairly even all over her body. But now, my coworker (a fit, shitlady by the way) tells me, she is starting to get rolls and cellulite. The daughter is only 18! I lamented that it was probably only going to get worse because the daughter doesn't even think she's fat and is now old enough to be off eating and feeding herself.  One dead, another on her way. The cycle of obesity continues.