Stomach ache How did showing off your tummy roll become a fashion statement? BY KRIS FRIESWICK

The passing of summer, while sad, does have one upside. With the decline of warmer months, we’ll see a drop-off in the frequency of teen-tummy-roll sightings.

During the summer, on almost any day or night, one could watch a parade of teen tummy rolls on the streets of my neighborhood. The teens, almost all girls, wore their summer uniform: skintight hip-huggers and belly shirts, with a roll of flesh protruding like a hernia between the two garments. They strutted down the street, heads held high, clad in Seven jeans four sizes too small, unaware that they were the childhood-obesity epidemic made manifest.

Each time I saw these young women, they threw me into a moral dilemma. Half of me was amazed by their confidence. They were big and proud and going out in their party duds — even if those duds profoundly restricted their breathing. They made me want to shout, "You go, girl! Big is beautiful!" The other half of me cringed and thought, "For the love of almighty God, when did cellulite become trendy?"

I suppose we have Kelly Osbourne to blame for the whole thing. Ozzy’s daughter, a little on the robust side, re-energized the grrl-power movement by proudly displaying her Rubenesque physique in sexy, stylish clothes, with not a thought for what the skeletal fashionistas of Seventh Avenue would say. She has style, class, and innate fashion sense. She made it okay to be big and hip at the same time. She’s an inspiration for every young woman who outweighs Paris Hilton, the Olsen twins, and Lindsay Lohan — all strapped together.

But as happens with any truly original concept, the knockoffs usually fall far short of the mark. The teen tummy-roll set has taken the "be proud, be stylish, be daring" mantra and turned it into "dress like Paris Hilton." Which is a bad idea, even for Paris Hilton.

The resulting trend has the power alternately to inspire and horrify. It also raises some profound and complex sociopolitical issues. On the one hand, every public-health expert in America is alarmed by the spike in childhood obesity; one study shows that 15 percent of children between the ages of 12 and 19 are overweight, up from just five percent 30 years ago, and other studies put the figure far higher. Lifelong health problems are virtually guaranteed when one begins life as a fat kid. Though I’m glad these girls feel confident enough to walk around in revealing clothing, being well on your way to chronic poor health is the wrong thing to feel confident about.

On the other hand, as any girl who has struggled with her weight knows, it’s a curse and an unending battle that saps your self-esteem, especially if you have skinny friends and a skinny sister who look fabulous in absolutely everything, and with whom you can’t share clothes. The constant images of models wearing pants that wouldn’t fit over your ankles have the power to turn shopping, and much else, into an exercise in self-flagellation. What a beautiful world it would be if every woman could embrace her size without self-hatred. When I look at the tummy-roll parade, I think maybe that day is close. And it makes me glad.

Some might say my confused reaction to these young women is the inevitable sign of an aging feminist — that while I still believe one should be accepted for who one is and not what one looks like, with age comes the inevitable prudish tint. Since I now possess my very own tummy roll, you’d think I’d be more forgiving when one struts by unfurled. Instead, I cringe.

The cringe is the result of a far more powerful factor — more powerful than feminism, more powerful than my concern for the health of these young women. At its core, the teen tummy roll shows that these girls have not one shred of fashion sense. Proudly displaying a prodigious tummy roll is not particularly trendy or empowered. It means your clothes don’t fit right. These young, beautiful women are forcing themselves into clothes that make them look like improperly stuffed sausages. That’s not a fashion statement; it’s a Glamour don’t.

The punks, the goths, the preppies — all of whom have left the house looking moderately ridiculous during one decade or another — at least show some style and forethought. When you see a girl with a purple Mohawk, 20 ear piercings, an eyebrow ring, black eyeliner, and a vest covered with safety pins, you might not appreciate the style, but you’ve got to hand it to her: she spent some time in front of the mirror perfecting the ensemble. She cares very much about how she looks, even if she doesn’t give a shit what you think.

It’s different with the tummy-roll set, I think. It’s like someone smashed all their mirrors. Everyone — from salespeople to parents — is too concerned about damaging these teens’ self-esteem to mention that there are better ways to enhance your beauty than by forcibly expelling your flesh over the top of your clothing.

Trends like the tummy roll often gather momentum, and I fear that as winter approaches, the teen tummy roll will become the new black. Will we be treated to a winter parade of frostbitten tummy rolls peeking from underneath parkas and over the tops of ski pants? It’s enough to make one fondly remember the ’80s, when thigh-length jackets with linebacker shoulders were de rigueur. They weren’t a great fashion concept, either, but when it came to tummy rolls, they were the right tool for the job.

Kris Frieswick can be reached at k.frieswick@verizon.net