As a medical professional, I’ve dedicated my career to improving public health and promoting evidence-based practices. This is why I am here today to tell you that one of the most widely used tools for measuring obesity—body mass index (BMI)—is a failure.
Now, as surgeon general, I am proud to declare that BMI’s tyranny over America’s health is dead. And it shall be replaced with a far more effective system—a group of very mean middle schoolers who will tell you whether you’re fat or just ugly and cringe.
The antiquated BMI metric fails to consider various factors that affect weight, such as muscle mass, bone density, and fat distribution. For instance, a bodybuilder can register as “obese,” and a sedentary person could be considered “normal.”
But rude middle schoolers circumvent these concerns by zeroing in on and magnifying even the tiniest flaws. If anyone can truly assess someone’s obesity, it’s a group of sharp-eyed, perpetually judgmental, social-media-savvy twelve-year-olds.
Here’s how it works: Submit a photo of yourself to your primary care physician. Feel free to send any image you want, even if it’s really flattering, and it’s the first photo of yourself you’ve liked in years (don’t worry, the kids will still be able to find something wrong with it).
The photo is then reviewed by a council of five randomly selected middle schoolers, each armed with an encyclopedic knowledge of what is cool and the irreparable damage caused by too much screen time.
Your photo will be measured on the following scale:
One of the middle schoolers raises an eyebrow without looking up from their phone: You are underweight and should consult a doctor to develop a healthy plan for gaining weight.
One of the middle schoolers scoffs, then mumbles, “Fine, whatever,” without looking up from their phone: You are within the normal weight range for your height, age, and body type.
One of the middle schoolers whispers something to the kid next to them, and then they both briefly look up from their phones and start giggling: You are overweight and at an increased risk for type 2 diabetes, heart disease, stroke, and certain types of cancer.
One of the middle schoolers quickly snaps a pic of your photo, presumably to share it on social media: You are obese and should talk to your health care provider immediately about diet and lifestyle changes.
One of the middle schoolers yells, “Ohio,” “Gyatt,” or “Skibidi rizz,” and all the other kids laugh hysterically without looking up from their phones: We don’t yet know what this means.
Unlike BMI, which reduces everyone to a number, this new system instead conveys a wealth of data that tells you not only if you could stand to lose a few pounds but also how you are perceived by society at large, as well as making sure you are aware that you are definitely not pulling off that top.
Clinical trials have so far shown tremendous promise. Many of our subjects established new fitness goals once they stopped crying.
Traditionalists may feel that replacing BMI with preteens sounds absurd. Or perhaps even borderline irresponsible. But if we’re genuinely committed to improving health outcomes, we must acknowledge that current metrics are inadequate. A panel of discerning middle schoolers offers something far superior: a personalized, culturally relevant, and quietly devastating judgment that is as immediately actionable as it is painful.
So the next time you step onto the scale or find yourself in a doctor’s office, consider this: In the near future, your health might just be evaluated by a group of needlessly cruel and unfortunately accurate middle schoolers. And, trust me, they’ll tell you exactly what you need to hear.