Vogue vs. Health

July 8, 2003, 10:45 a.m.
Vogue vs. Health
When image trumps nutrition.

By Jennifer Grossman

I 'm not losing a damn pound," proclaims actress/singer Queen Latifah.
Given her spot on People's "50 Most Beautiful People" list, why should she?
As she rightly points out: "I look like America!" But in light of the
recent revelations by the American Cancer Society study — attributing 20
percent of cancers in women, and 14 percent in men — to excess body weight,
is that really such a good thing?

According to conventional wisdom, ours is a culture that "celebrates
thinness" — a seemingly self-evident truth manifested on ubiquitous
billboards, television screens, and fashion covers. Such unrealistic icons,
we're told, foster fat-phobia and undermine self-esteem.

Yet alongside such supposedly oppressive images, there exists a paradoxical
attitude with subtler yet more insidious implications for public health.
And that is an increasingly permissive culture of size acceptance, which
robs at-risk individuals of the impetus needed to make those changes in
diet and exercise that can salvage their health and save their lives.

Like a binge-and-starve eater, our schizophrenic attitudes towards body
image swing from aspiring to the largely unattainable proportions of a Kate
Moss, to celebrations of the largely avoidable obesity of a Star Jones. Yet
while Moss is routinely vilified for glamorizing thinness, and blamed for
contributing to anorexia (which affects one-tenth of one percent of the
population), supersized-celebrities like Star Jones are upheld as a role
model for healthy body acceptance. Jones statement, "My weight was never
important to me," is featured by Glamour magazine as a "Body-Love
Breakthrough," without a second-thought to how similar attitudes might have
contributed to obesity (which affects one-third of the population).

But wait, isn't body size determined by our genes? If some of us are simply
fated to be fat, why not make the best of something we can't change?

Researchers at California's Lawrence Berkley National Lab recently put this
proposition to test by following 35 pairs of identical twins to ascertain
whether obesity, among other attributes, was largely hereditary. They found
that fatness was not. ABC News featured two of these twins — John Sovocool
and his brother Wayne — who, though sharing exactly the same genes, are 50
pounds apart in weight. Filming the brothers at a buffet, the cameras soon
discovered why: John, the lighter twin, went for the fruit salad, while
Wayne loaded up on dumplings, deep-fried seafood, barbecue pork, prime rib,
and for dessert: coconut pie, melon custard, and three pieces of
cheesecake.

The notion of beer bellies as our birthright is also belied by recent
history: Four decades ago, just 13 percent of Americans were obese — today
it's over 30 percent. It's doubtful our DNA has managed to mutate in so
limited a period of time — so what else has changed?

The short answer: We're eating more and moving less. But as Greg Crister
explains Fatland: How Americans Became the Fattest People in the World, the
underlying reasons are more complex. Among them: commodity surpluses and
soaring meat production; substitution of cheap (and differently
metabolized) corn syrup in junk food; the discount-marketing revolution in
fast food; less Phys Ed and more vending machines in schools.

If changes in the food industry and our physical environment have abetted
obesity, our culture has increasingly accommodated it. Susie Orback's 1978
bestseller, Fat Is a Feminist Issue launched a liberation movement —
exhorting women to abandon their diets for the same reasons they once
burned their bras. Groups like the Body Image Task Force and the National
Association to Advance Fat Acceptance sprang up to fight weight
discrimination and promote "size esteem."

The mainstream media continued to dwell on the dangers of the
epidemiologically small number of the mostly white and affluent anorexics
and bulimics, while heralding surveys that found a greater acceptance of
overweight and obesity among African American girls as salutary signs of
"self-respect." Do such attitudes contribute to the disproportionate
percentages of obesity among minorities? No one seems willing to ask — much
less say. But as Crister points out, "such sidestepping denies poor
minority girls a principal — if sometimes unpleasant — psychological
incentive to lose weight: that of social stigma."

Can feeling bad about being big be better for your health? Only the
heartless among us can fail to sympathize with the plight of obese
children, who, according to a study recently published in the Journal of
the American Medical Association, rate their quality of life as low as that
of pediatric cancer patients undergoing chemotherapy. To question size
acceptance is not to advocate self-hatred — or condone body bigotry. But we
do ourselves and our children no favors when we downplay the dangers of
obesity in the interest of supposedly safeguarding self-esteem.

To find a balance between a healthy Body-Mass-Index and body image, the
advice of the serenity prayer may be as good as any: "Grant us acceptance
of those things we cannot change, courage to change the things we can, and
the wisdom to know the difference." We can't change our height, our basic
bone structure, or even our baseline metabolic rate. Some of us are indeed
genetically pre-disposed to be a little heavier than others, or have a
harder time losing weight. But very few of us are born to be obese. And we
can change how much we exercise, what kind of food choices we make, and how
much time we spend in front of the tube. Given the wisdom science is now
uncovering, telling people to accept their fat as fate is both dishonest
and disempowering.

— Jennifer A. Grossman is vice president and director at the Dole Nutrition
Institute.

Hmmmm. Queen Latifah has lost quite a bit of weight and Star has also been
dieting according to news stories though she doesn't look to me like she has
lost much. She refuses to talk about it on The View.

JeanC wrote:
|| July 8, 2003, 10:45 a.m.
|| Vogue vs. Health
|| When image trumps nutrition.
||
|| By Jennifer Grossman
||
|| I 'm not losing a damn pound," proclaims actress/singer Queen
|| Latifah. Given her spot on People's "50 Most Beautiful People" list,
|| why should she? As she rightly points out: "I look like America!"
|| But in light of the recent revelations by the American Cancer
|| Society study - attributing 20 percent of cancers in women, and 14
|| percent in men - to excess body weight, is that really such a good
|| thing?
||
|| According to conventional wisdom, ours is a culture that "celebrates
|| thinness" - a seemingly self-evident truth manifested on ubiquitous
|| billboards, television screens, and fashion covers. Such unrealistic
|| icons, we're told, foster fat-phobia and undermine self-esteem.
||
|| Yet alongside such supposedly oppressive images, there exists a
|| paradoxical attitude with subtler yet more insidious implications
|| for public health. And that is an increasingly permissive culture of
|| size acceptance, which robs at-risk individuals of the impetus
|| needed to make those changes in diet and exercise that can salvage
|| their health and save their lives.
||
|| Like a binge-and-starve eater, our schizophrenic attitudes towards
|| body image swing from aspiring to the largely unattainable
|| proportions of a Kate Moss, to celebrations of the largely avoidable
|| obesity of a Star Jones. Yet while Moss is routinely vilified for
|| glamorizing thinness, and blamed for contributing to anorexia (which
|| affects one-tenth of one percent of the population),
|| supersized-celebrities like Star Jones are upheld as a role model
|| for healthy body acceptance. Jones statement, "My weight was never
|| important to me," is featured by Glamour magazine as a "Body-Love
|| Breakthrough," without a second-thought to how similar attitudes
|| might have contributed to obesity (which affects one-third of the
|| population).
||
|| But wait, isn't body size determined by our genes? If some of us are
|| simply fated to be fat, why not make the best of something we can't
|| change?
||
|| Researchers at California's Lawrence Berkley National Lab recently
|| put this proposition to test by following 35 pairs of identical
|| twins to ascertain whether obesity, among other attributes, was
|| largely hereditary. They found that fatness was not. ABC News
|| featured two of these twins - John Sovocool and his brother Wayne -
|| who, though sharing exactly the same genes, are 50 pounds apart in
|| weight. Filming the brothers at a buffet, the cameras soon
|| discovered why: John, the lighter twin, went for the fruit salad,
|| while Wayne loaded up on dumplings, deep-fried seafood, barbecue
|| pork, prime rib, and for dessert: coconut pie, melon custard, and
|| three pieces of cheesecake.
||
|| The notion of beer bellies as our birthright is also belied by recent
|| history: Four decades ago, just 13 percent of Americans were obese -
|| today it's over 30 percent. It's doubtful our DNA has managed to
|| mutate in so limited a period of time - so what else has changed?
||
|| The short answer: We're eating more and moving less. But as Greg
|| Crister explains Fatland: How Americans Became the Fattest People in
|| the World, the underlying reasons are more complex. Among them:
|| commodity surpluses and soaring meat production; substitution of
|| cheap (and differently metabolized) corn syrup in junk food; the
|| discount-marketing revolution in fast food; less Phys Ed and more
|| vending machines in schools.
||
|| If changes in the food industry and our physical environment have
|| abetted obesity, our culture has increasingly accommodated it. Susie
|| Orback's 1978 bestseller, Fat Is a Feminist Issue launched a
|| liberation movement - exhorting women to abandon their diets for the
|| same reasons they once burned their bras. Groups like the Body Image
|| Task Force and the National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance
|| sprang up to fight weight discrimination and promote "size esteem."
||
|| The mainstream media continued to dwell on the dangers of the
|| epidemiologically small number of the mostly white and affluent
|| anorexics and bulimics, while heralding surveys that found a greater
|| acceptance of overweight and obesity among African American girls as
|| salutary signs of "self-respect." Do such attitudes contribute to
|| the disproportionate percentages of obesity among minorities? No one
|| seems willing to ask - much less say. But as Crister points out,
|| "such sidestepping denies poor minority girls a principal - if
|| sometimes unpleasant - psychological incentive to lose weight: that
|| of social stigma."
||
|| Can feeling bad about being big be better for your health? Only the
|| heartless among us can fail to sympathize with the plight of obese
|| children, who, according to a study recently published in the
|| Journal of the American Medical Association, rate their quality of
|| life as low as that of pediatric cancer patients undergoing
|| chemotherapy. To question size acceptance is not to advocate
|| self-hatred - or condone body bigotry. But we do ourselves and our
|| children no favors when we downplay the dangers of obesity in the
|| interest of supposedly safeguarding self-esteem.
||
|| To find a balance between a healthy Body-Mass-Index and body image,
|| the advice of the serenity prayer may be as good as any: "Grant us
|| acceptance of those things we cannot change, courage to change the
|| things we can, and the wisdom to know the difference." We can't
|| change our height, our basic bone structure, or even our baseline
|| metabolic rate. Some of us are indeed genetically pre-disposed to be
|| a little heavier than others, or have a harder time losing weight.
|| But very few of us are born to be obese. And we can change how much
|| we exercise, what kind of food choices we make, and how much time we
|| spend in front of the tube. Given the wisdom science is now
|| uncovering, telling people to accept their fat as fate is both
|| dishonest and disempowering.
||
|| - Jennifer A. Grossman is vice president and director at the Dole
|| Nutrition Institute.

JeanC wrote:
July 8, 2003, 10:45 a.m.
Vogue vs. Health
When image trumps nutrition.

By Jennifer Grossman

To find a balance between a healthy Body-Mass-Index and body image, the
advice of the serenity prayer may be as good as any: "Grant us acceptance
of those things we cannot change, courage to change the things we can, and
the wisdom to know the difference." We can't change our height, our basic
bone structure, or even our baseline metabolic rate. Some of us are indeed
genetically pre-disposed to be a little heavier than others, or have a
harder time losing weight. But very few of us are born to be obese. And we
can change how much we exercise, what kind of food choices we make, and how
much time we spend in front of the tube. Given the wisdom science is now
uncovering, telling people to accept their fat as fate is both dishonest
and disempowering.

— Jennifer A. Grossman is vice president and director at the Dole Nutrition
Institute.

Actually, you can change your base metabolic rate in several different
ways, the most obvious is by adding more muscle to your frame through
resistance training, but Covert Bailey talks quite a bit about becoming
"a better butter burner" in his "Ultimate Fit or Fat" book.

Overall, I really liked the idea of applying the serenity prayer to
obesity. I didn't get around to losing 60 pounds of fat until I had the
courage to change and I realize that other people either don't care to
change or don't have the ability yet to change. But it is possible.

Dally

Twin research shows the majority of identical twins within a few
pounds of each other. Still, it's possible to modify weight by "tough
love" - exercising more, eating more fiber, restricting varieyy and
calories. Get off your butt and throw away your junk food!

JeanC wrote in message ...
July 8, 2003, 10:45 a.m.
Vogue vs. Health
When image trumps nutrition.

By Jennifer Grossman

I 'm not losing a damn pound," proclaims actress/singer Queen Latifah.
Given her spot on People's "50 Most Beautiful People" list, why should she?
As she rightly points out: "I look like America!" But in light of the
recent revelations by the American Cancer Society study ? attributing 20
percent of cancers in women, and 14 percent in men ? to excess body weight,
is that really such a good thing?

According to conventional wisdom, ours is a culture that "celebrates
thinness" ? a seemingly self-evident truth manifested on ubiquitous
billboards, television screens, and fashion covers. Such unrealistic icons,
we're told, foster fat-phobia and undermine self-esteem.

Yet alongside such supposedly oppressive images, there exists a paradoxical
attitude with subtler yet more insidious implications for public health.
And that is an increasingly permissive culture of size acceptance, which
robs at-risk individuals of the impetus needed to make those changes in
diet and exercise that can salvage their health and save their lives.

Like a binge-and-starve eater, our schizophrenic attitudes towards body
image swing from aspiring to the largely unattainable proportions of a Kate
Moss, to celebrations of the largely avoidable obesity of a Star Jones. Yet
while Moss is routinely vilified for glamorizing thinness, and blamed for
contributing to anorexia (which affects one-tenth of one percent of the
population), supersized-celebrities like Star Jones are upheld as a role
model for healthy body acceptance. Jones statement, "My weight was never
important to me," is featured by Glamour magazine as a "Body-Love
Breakthrough," without a second-thought to how similar attitudes might have
contributed to obesity (which affects one-third of the population).

But wait, isn't body size determined by our genes? If some of us are simply
fated to be fat, why not make the best of something we can't change?

Researchers at California's Lawrence Berkley National Lab recently put this
proposition to test by following 35 pairs of identical twins to ascertain
whether obesity, among other attributes, was largely hereditary. They found
that fatness was not. ABC News featured two of these twins ? John Sovocool
and his brother Wayne ? who, though sharing exactly the same genes, are 50
pounds apart in weight. Filming the brothers at a buffet, the cameras soon
discovered why: John, the lighter twin, went for the fruit salad, while
Wayne loaded up on dumplings, deep-fried seafood, barbecue pork, prime rib,
and for dessert: coconut pie, melon custard, and three pieces of
cheesecake.

The notion of beer bellies as our birthright is also belied by recent
history: Four decades ago, just 13 percent of Americans were obese ? today
it's over 30 percent. It's doubtful our DNA has managed to mutate in so
limited a period of time ? so what else has changed?

The short answer: We're eating more and moving less. But as Greg Crister
explains Fatland: How Americans Became the Fattest People in the World, the
underlying reasons are more complex. Among them: commodity surpluses and
soaring meat production; substitution of cheap (and differently
metabolized) corn syrup in junk food; the discount-marketing revolution in
fast food; less Phys Ed and more vending machines in schools.

If changes in the food industry and our physical environment have abetted
obesity, our culture has increasingly accommodated it. Susie Orback's 1978
bestseller, Fat Is a Feminist Issue launched a liberation movement ?
exhorting women to abandon their diets for the same reasons they once
burned their bras. Groups like the Body Image Task Force and the National
Association to Advance Fat Acceptance sprang up to fight weight
discrimination and promote "size esteem."

The mainstream media continued to dwell on the dangers of the
epidemiologically small number of the mostly white and affluent anorexics
and bulimics, while heralding surveys that found a greater acceptance of
overweight and obesity among African American girls as salutary signs of
"self-respect." Do such attitudes contribute to the disproportionate
percentages of obesity among minorities? No one seems willing to ask ? much
less say. But as Crister points out, "such sidestepping denies poor
minority girls a principal ? if sometimes unpleasant ? psychological
incentive to lose weight: that of social stigma."

Can feeling bad about being big be better for your health? Only the
heartless among us can fail to sympathize with the plight of obese
children, who, according to a study recently published in the Journal of
the American Medical Association, rate their quality of life as low as that
of pediatric cancer patients undergoing chemotherapy. To question size
acceptance is not to advocate self-hatred ? or condone body bigotry. But we
do ourselves and our children no favors when we downplay the dangers of
obesity in the interest of supposedly safeguarding self-esteem.

To find a balance between a healthy Body-Mass-Index and body image, the
advice of the serenity prayer may be as good as any: "Grant us acceptance
of those things we cannot change, courage to change the things we can, and
the wisdom to know the difference." We can't change our height, our basic
bone structure, or even our baseline metabolic rate. Some of us are indeed
genetically pre-disposed to be a little heavier than others, or have a
harder time losing weight. But very few of us are born to be obese. And we
can change how much we exercise, what kind of food choices we make, and how
much time we spend in front of the tube. Given the wisdom science is now
uncovering, telling people to accept their fat as fate is both dishonest
and disempowering.

? Jennifer A. Grossman is vice president and director at the Dole Nutrition
Institute.

Brad Sheppard wrote:

Twin research shows the majority of identical twins within a few
pounds of each other.

But confounding those results, a surprising number of identical twins
were raised by the same families. In other words, they didn't learn to
eat right.

My sister was raised by our slender step-mother and I was raised by our
obese mother. The kids the step-mother raised are now and have always
been slender. The kids the obese mother raised are now and have always
been chunky. At my heaviest I weighed 100 pounds more than my sister at
her heaviest. Even now, I probably still weigh 40-50 pounds more than
she does. She has never eaten the same way as me. In fact, she grew up
eating meat every day and I grew up eating vegan crap, mostly pasta.

One of the things that astounded me as I figured out how to feed my body
was just how badly informed my mother was. She taught me how to eat a
crappy diet on "health food" and I believed she knew what she was
talking about. (She's closing in on 300 pounds now, has already had her
knees replaced once and is now thinking of getting a scooter to help her
move around.)

Genetic, my ass. She was just wrong.

Dally

Most twin studies are done on twins raised apart. Twins raised apart
are amazingly similar. Genetics is a powerful force; but willpower
can be even stronger. Tough love, baby! (after I broke my rules and
had a "brewtus" size beer.)

Dally wrote in message ...
Brad Sheppard wrote:

Twin research shows the majority of identical twins within a few
pounds of each other.

But confounding those results, a surprising number of identical twins
were raised by the same families. In other words, they didn't learn to
eat right.

My sister was raised by our slender step-mother and I was raised by our
obese mother. The kids the step-mother raised are now and have always
been slender. The kids the obese mother raised are now and have always
been chunky. At my heaviest I weighed 100 pounds more than my sister at
her heaviest. Even now, I probably still weigh 40-50 pounds more than
she does. She has never eaten the same way as me. In fact, she grew up
eating meat every day and I grew up eating vegan crap, mostly pasta.

One of the things that astounded me as I figured out how to feed my body
was just how badly informed my mother was. She taught me how to eat a
crappy diet on "health food" and I believed she knew what she was
talking about. (She's closing in on 300 pounds now, has already had her
knees replaced once and is now thinking of getting a scooter to help her
move around.)

Genetic, my ass. She was just wrong.

Dally