Crister - Fat land: how Americans became the fattest people in the world

To my wife, Antoinette Mongelli

Copyright 2003 by Greg Critser
All rights reserved

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Critser, Greg.
Fat land : how Americans became the fattest
people in the world / Greg Critser.
p. cm.
Includes index.
ISBN 0-618-16472-3
1. ObesityUnited States. I. Title.
RA 645. O 23 C 75 2003
362.1'96398'00973dc21 2002032282

Printed in the United States of America

Book design by Robert Overholtzer

QUM 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

This book would not have been possible without the knowledge, wisdom, and generosity of many dedicated individuals, chief among whom were Colin Harrison, my editor at Harper's, and Deanne Urmy, my editor at Houghton Mifflin. It was Colin Harrison who first prodded me to write seriously about the subject of obesity, and who held me accountable to the highest standards of journalism in the process. Likewise did Deanne Urmy help me to see the worth in a book-length treatment of the subject. I am also indebted to her for her wit, insight, and passion, which made the path to publication a pleasurable one.

In the process of reporting the many-sided aspects of obesity, I was mentored by two of the best in their respective fields. Professor James O. Hill, of the University of Colorado, was a gentle but tough-minded Virgil in the purgatory of modern epidemiological statistics. Dr. Francine Ratner Kaufman, chief of endocrinology at Children's Hospital Los Angeles and president of the American Diabetes Association, helped me see the real-world implications of obesity statistics and showed me that something can be done about it if one is energetic, compassionate, and tenacious enough. Fortunately for the children of Los Angeles, she is.

A number of other medical and health specialists, all noted in the introductory remarks for each chapter in this book's notes, were of enormous help. A few deserve special recognition. John Peters, Ph.D., of Procter & Gamble's Nutrition Science Institute, provided enlightened and probing comments on the nature of consumerism, consumption, and obesity. Betty Hennessy, of the Los Angeles Office of Education, was a font of information and contacts in the world of physical education. Ash Hayes, the former director of the President's Council on Physical Fitness and Sports, and Charles Corbin, professor of exercise physiology at the University of Arizona, gave freely of their time answering my many inquiries on the subject of fitness testing. The staff of the USDA's Center for Nutrition Policy and Promotion was critical in obtaining much-needed documents and reports, as was the staff of the National Archives in College Park, Maryland. Finding many obscure journal articles would have been impossible without the reference desk at the Louise M. Darling Biomedical Library at the University of California, Los Angeles. Personal access to scholars was greatly aided by Dunn Gifford and Sara Baer-Sinnott, of Oldways Preservation Trust.

Along the way, a number of friends, teachers, fellow journalists, authors, and editors have also given invaluable support, advice, and criticism. Among them are Joyce Appleby, Michael Balter, Dr. Scott Connelly, Daniel Fineman, Ted Fishman, Eva Fleming, Norris Hundley, Joel Kotkin, Lewis Lapham, Robert Lerner, Stephanie Mencimer, Jeremy Newman, Steve Oney, Richard Rodriguez, Barbara J. Rolls, Mark Salzman, Barry Sanders, Catherine Seipp, Jim Stillwell, and Jessica Yu. Sue Horton published my first personal account of weight loss while an editor at the LA Weekly ,then made room for several columns on the subject at the Los Angeles Times ,where she edits the Sunday Opinion section. Dan Ferrara, my editor at Worth ,carved out space for a remarkable ten thousandword essay on the subject at that magazine. Glenn Nishimura, my editor at USA Today ,was a crucial advocate for several op-ed pieces that appeared in those pages.

Special gratitude goes to my agent, Kris Dahl at ICM, for her agile representation, for her cool-headedness, and for always returning my calls.

My family, both nuclear and extended, deserve the lion's share of credit for their unflagging support of my writing career in general, and this book in particular. My mother, Betty Critser, kept me upbeat when things looked dim, as did my sisters, Barbara and Linda, and I am lucky to have inherited the work ethic of my late father, Paul C. Critser. My culinary mentor and mother-in-law, Julia Mongelli, kept me rooted to reality in matters of food and food politics. Nicholas and Christopher Coauette and Elliott Haberman likewise provided a reality check on what children really want to eat (which is, from what I can gather, candy ... now!). A huge thanksand grazie! goes as well to the Spence, Stromei, Caiolfi, Lanaghan, Raguseo, and Macchia families.

This book is dedicated to my wife, Antoinette Mongelli, who was a constant source of inspiration, support, good will, insight, humor, joy, and love. Without her, Fat Land would still be between my ears.

Obesity is the dominant unmet global health issue, with Western countries topping the list.

World Health Organization

Set the soul of thy son aright, and all the rest will be added hereafter!

Saint John Chrysostom

T HIS BOOK is not a memoir, but it is undeniably grounded in a singular personal experience. My experience was not, for those hoping for something juicy, a moment of childhood drama. Nor was it anything that led to any form of spiritual or true psychological revelation. Compared to the harrowing tribulations that so much of the world's population endures, it was, when all is said and done, rather mundane and petty. Here it is: Some guy called me fatso. Specifically, he screamed: "Watch it, fatso!"

Here I should note that I deserved the abuse; after all, I had opened my car door into a busy street without looking into my side mirror first, and so had nearly decapitated the poor fellow. I could have killed him. But why... fatso? Could it be because I was indeed forty pounds overweight? Or that I could not fit into any of my clothes, even the ones I got at the Gap that were labeled "relaxed" (which, come to think of it, I wasn't), let alone the ones considered "baggy" (which, again come to think of it, I was)? Could it be because I had to back up ten feet so as to get my entire face into the bathroom mirror to shave every morning? Or that when I dined with friends they hid their small pets and seemed to guard their plates, one arm curled around them, as if I might plunge my fork into their juicy pieces of duck and make off with them? I'm obviously joking about the latter, but the point is that the insult hit home. In upwardly mobile, professional America, being fatand having someone actually notice it and say something about itis almost as bad as getting caught reading Playboy in your parents' bedroom when you're ten. Shame shame shame.

Fatness was hardly a new issue for me. My wife and my physician had been after me for some time to do something about my problem, the former quite gingerly, the latter not so. My doctor, in fact, had recently suggested that I consider a new weight loss medication. At the time, I had promptly brushed the idea aside. Now, the sting still fresh, I reconsidered: Why not?

And so, for the next nine months, I put all of my extra energy into the task of shedding my excess avoirdupois. In modern America, this, I would find, was a rite in itself, replete with its own social institutions (health clubs), tonics (Meridia), taboos (Krispy Kreme), and aspirational totems (Levi's 501 regular cuts). I was apparently ready for this rite, for, to my delight, I slowly but surely lost the weight. What followed was encouraging, if somewhat predictable: congratulations from friends for "sticking to it"; enhanced self-esteem; a new wardrobe; a newfound confidence and spring in my step; phone calls from J.Lo. and Julia.