The perennial resolution

Do you recall how our Constitution shamefully counted enslaved people as three-fifths of a person? Well, according to the National Institutes of Health’s Body Mass Index, I am six-fifths of a person. I know I shouldn’t joke about slavery, but I probably shouldn’t joke about being overweight either.

United States obesity rates have tripled over the last 60 years, and our expanding derrieres carry a significant price. Health hazards associated with obesity are cardiovascular disease, type-two diabetes, hypertension, some cancers, and a host of other calamities. A Milken study estimated the dollar cost of obesity in the United States at $1.4 trillion annually, including increased healthcare costs, lower workforce productivity, and environmental impacts. The study also describes how obesity is associated with poor academic performance, below-average household incomes, and a generally diminished quality of life.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) defines obesity as “abnormal or excessive fat accumulation that presents a risk to health” and sets a measurable standard at a body mass index of 30 or higher. The often-cited Body Mass Index (BMI) is a simple calculation of weight divided by height that was devised by a Belgian astronomer in the mid-1800s. The math couldn’t be more straightforward, but in a country where the metric system never caught on, we tend to look it up on a chart. The chart gives it the air of murky medical wizardry, but it’s not. It’s a ratio. No more. No less.

As with any oversimplification, the BMI has its limitations. It doesn't distinguish between bone, muscle, fat, genetic factors, or level of fitness. It consistently overestimates obesity in muscular athletes and underestimates obesity in older adults, when muscle mass decreases. It doesn’t work particularly well on pregnant women either. Should we divide the product by two? As a measure of overall health, the BMI can also paint a distorted picture because it doesn’t differentiate between the fat under our skin and the fat surrounding our vital organs.

That brings me to another thought: In this day of oppressive political correctness, why are we still using the term “fatty liver?” Is the name-calling necessary? Can’t we call it, “he has a great personality liver” or “I hear her family has money liver?” Just a friendly suggestion…

Getting back to the BMI…As imperfect as it may be, it provides a general guideline to help us understand where we are and where we would like to be. To many of us, the recommended norms appear light, and the lower end of the obesity scale looks somewhat normal.

Our history, however, confirms that a much lighter norm existed before we had processed foods, drive-through burger joints, and ergonomic office furniture. Our physical lives were more demanding; we were less affluent, had a more spartan diet, and had no electronic entertainment.

A skeptic could point out that as those obesity rates tripled during the past 60 years, our anticipated life expectancy increased by 10%. That is true, but with the advantages of modern sanitation, antibiotics, vaccination, medical imaging, and pacemakers, it’s fair to wonder if lives would be extended further without the supersized combo meal.

When I look at my own weight issues, it’s serious to the extent that it impacts my long-term health and the quality of life in my last years. Without the health element, it’s just a protracted battle between overindulgence and vanity. I prefer to focus on the absurdity of the latter. If we can’t joke about those issues, something is terribly wrong with us, but I realize that I am privileged to be able to look at the lighter side of the problem.

Others aren’t so lucky. Some people are doomed by genetics. Some find their food choices limited by poverty. Others live in environments that aren’t conducive to healthy eating. “Food deserts'' aren’t just an imaginary contrivance of the left. They really do exist, and I have seen them in person. I have lived in an area where there’s no place for a garden, and the only accessible grocery store is a 7-11, where the food is overpriced and inherently unhealthy.

A more significant challenge to healthy eating is consumer education. I won’t pretend to know how consumer education is taught in schools, but there is plenty of evidence to indicate that it is not keeping up with the advertising budgets of the fast-food industry. Unwitting consumers don’t stand a chance.

I only mention these things because it is January of a new year, when people make “resolutions” to form new habits, work out a bit more, and get ready for Speedo season. Just as toy stores cash in during December, January is predictably a top revenue earner for fitness centers. Is it a momentary urge to improve that will get lost in the chaos of life a couple of months down the road? That’s OK. It’s better than not trying at all. Let’s just keep it fun.