Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Wait... Am I Giving My Kids Their Own Death Sentence?!

I inherited my father’s funny walk, good skin and firm handshake.

My mother passed along her creative ability, skill when it comes to assembling any piece of crap from Ikea and slightly above average sense of direction.

So does that mean my girls will have my cotton ball phobia, hate (hate, hate) cilantro and need braces to fix a Lauren Hutton-esque gap between their two front teeth?

(On 2nd thought, maybe I should have kept it?)
Each of us has filled out numerous seemingly useless medical history reports at the doctor’s office.  For over 30 years, or at least those during which I endured this annoying task myself, I answered the questions as any honest skeptic would.  Yes my Dad died of cancer, but that doesn’t mean that I will as well... Or does it?

I have an enormous appreciation of and sensitivity toward nostalgia.  But now that I am older, reminiscing as a child of the 80’s isn’t just the fun and games you read about in chain emails.  For me, with that comes the realization (and fear) that my children may inherit not just the good, but the bad that I paid little attention to while using my Easy Bake oven.
(My Doppleganger!!!)
It’s hard to assess the consequence of our weaknesses before adulthood.  Then whether activated by our need to pay rent at the top of the month or fear of not properly providing for our kids, we grow up.  We realize that our tendency to sit too close to the television isn’t the only poor habit we may pass along.  Our genes become more important than our jeans.

So here’s my question.  Do you want to know now what will happen with your health, or the health of your children in the future?  What if there is nothing you can do to change it, either way?

WebMD terrifies me more than the prospect of my baby girls hitting puberty, and the idea of an elective full body diagnostic scan scares me (ironically) to death…  I just need to figure out where ignorance- and innocence- fall into that equation.