The Death of PC

A friend of mine was trying to describe the lunch ladies at her kids' school and couldn't find the proper adjective that met the current politically correct criteria.

That was because there were no PC adjectives.

The lunch ladies in question had passed a size point at which kind words like "heavy" or "chubby" or "plus-sized" no longer had any meaning. My friend settled on gargantuan, although it calls to mind the T-Rex in Jurassic Park. Her other choices were Moby Dick, Shamu, massive, gi-normous, hu-mongoid. . .

Unfortunately, it is also an un-PC choice to use the most truthful description: unhealthy. As in "you are increasing everyone's health insurance premiums." Or, more to the point considering these were the ladies serving lunch to elementary school students: "Look at the example you're setting."

The Death of "Died"

Nobody died anymore.

Oh, they stop breathing. Their hearts stop. Their brains cease to function. But they don't die. They "pass away."

"Pass away" was once the preferred euphemism of aging morticians with round wire-framed glasses and gray suits. At some point, people started turning into smarmy insipid morticians.

It doesn't hurt less to hear "passed away" or "passed."

The grim fact is that grief and sadness aren't assuaged by euphemism. Often enough, euphemism belittles that grief.

We are supposed to be sad when someone we love dies. We are supposed to grieve. It's ok. It's ok to talk about it, too. It's ok to grieve in your own way. And, it's ok to call it what it is.