Common sense always required.
In 1972 one of my fellow Sargent’s was 6’3” & 205.
He was a rock solid martial arts expert.
He got jacked up at a physical and told he had to lose 6 lbs, to get back “under weight”.....
I told him to go see the base commander...but he decided it wasn’t worth it.
As for belly size maximums....41”....really?
My doctor told me I needed to lose weight to meet the standards. I challenged her v to a pushup contest. I did 30 fast ones. We agreed on a weight about 30 lbs over the standard.
This, indeed, is ridiculous.
On the other end of the spectrum are our policemen and EMT’s. My neighbor was transported to the hospital last week in an ambulance because of a heart related problem. There were only two EMT’s. One drove and the other had to ride in the passenger’s seat. He was way too large to fit behind the steering wheel and could not manage to get his butt up into the back of the ambulance. Fortunately one of our other neighbors is an M.D. and rode in the back of the ambulance to the hospital.
Their explanation for having the obese one working was because they were shorthanded.
You mean like women in combat, and faggots in foxholes?
For the service, why don't they do muscle mass/fat ratios instead of just weight and waist? Other interesting stats: Average LAPD Waist size: 33. Average Chicago PD Waist size: 43.
Proportion? OK to have a 40" wasit with a 40" inseam.
The AF is concerned about how their Airmen look. But this same officer could go out and march in a gay pride parade in tight shorts and black stockings and that would be just fine. Other military members of the same sex can wear their uniforms in the gay pride parades and kiss each other while marching down the street.
Yet, their concerned about appearance.
The 40” rule is a typical example of governmental idiocy. In fact, when I was in, your physical fitness score included a waistline measurement that started penalizing any waist over, IIRC, 32 inches. I don’t remember if females had a smaller standard.
40” came from a POPULATION study that associated a 40” or greater waistline with increased heart disease. Apart for the fact that heart disease doesn’t usually cripple people until past military ages, the study was intended to give doctors a ‘factor’ that might make them explore the patient’s health further. It was never, ever meant to be a rule applied to everyone.
When the rule came out, I had 2 guys working for me at both extremes. One was a slender, 5’7” Filipino who had a 28 inch waist - and shoulders to match. Another was a Master Sergeant who had to turn sideways to get his shoulders thru the door frame. Slight exaggeration, but his shoulders were huge. Only a government worker could conclude they both needed the same size waist. His wrist matched my elbow...
In fact, we had a gal in the office who was 5’ 1” and MAYBE 95 lbs. I think she had a 23” waist, but she was built to match it. On a deployment, who do you want - a guy who could lift 100+ lbs with one arm, or a gal who didn’t even WEIGH 100 lbs?
Want to know how the USMC keeps our Marines in great shape compared to all other service branches?
Smoke. Yo'. Ass. Into. The. Deck. Sucka.
Day in, day out. Ask me how I know.
Suck it up, fatty.
We touched down at an Air Force base in Texas and stayed overnight. I thought we died and went to heaven. The Officer’s & VIP chowhall had tablecloths and 15 different condiments lined up for use. No cooks there. No, sir. They had five-star chefs, all top graduates of the Culinary Institute of America or Le Cordon Bleu in Paris.
When the chef asked how I wanted my three-inch thick Texas T-bone steak, I was shocked as I was usually served tire treads back at home base. The omelet was outstanding, not of the powdered variety, and fit for a king. I was offered as much smokehouse bacon - by the furlong - as I could eat. The perfect cream puff desserts were of French origin and stood about 12-inches tall. Each came with an airman to fan away the Texas humidity. They were out of Bordeaux but the B&B stood in fine.
After breakfast, we were escorted to the base commander’s Italian spa where we enjoyed a Japanese bath and back massage and then settled in for a morning of five-card stud while puffing fine Arturo Fuente Hemingway cigars.
Finally, at about noon, the Air Force personnel slipped out their feather beds, and the base stirred to life. They fueled up our clunky World War II vintage aircraft, gave us each a picnic basket of fresh fruit, wine and sandwiches and bid us adieu.
I can easily understand 41-inch waists in the Air Force.
I can tell that these pukes have never really sat in an aircrewman’s seat in an Air Force aircraft.
My son is 6'2" with a 40" waist. He is, not to dismiss his many good qualities, fat.