It's a common political refrain that America faces a childhood obesity
epidemic that's turning us into a nation of blubbery diabetics.
Underlying this is the premise that we're helpless before
gingerbread cookies and honey-roasted hams -- unable to resist these
and other foods and incapable of putting down our forks. We can be
cured, it seems, only by government intervention such as the banning of
trans-fats and sodas from public schools.
But is it the food, or is it us? Is it a proper role of government to
tell us what we can or can't eat? And are we really as fat as the NIH
numbers suggest?
Before we let Uncle Sam into our kitchens, at school or at home, these questions deserve some exploration.
For starters, government data about what constitutes "overweight" and "obese" are misleading.
The standard metric for this measurement is a person's body-mass
index, or BMI -- the ratio of one's height to one's weight. But at
best, BMI is a rough tool that does not take into account an
individual's body type. A six-foot-two athlete who weighs 210 pounds
would be classified as "obese" according to BMI charts -- despite his
32-inch waistline, 17-inch biceps and his less than 6 percent actual
body fat.
If you believe the BMI tables, most of the best players in the NBA
and NFL are "overweight," including superstar athletes Kobe Bryant and
Tom Brady.
Many Hollywood heartthrobs also qualify as fatties -- Brad Pitt, Matt Damon, Tom Cruise and George Clooney, to name a few.
What's more, the acceptable BMI continues to be ratcheted downward
-- transforming those who were considered perfectly healthy yesterday
into "overweight" and "obese" today.
Before 1998, a "healthy" BMI was anything less than 27. Then,
suddenly, the government changed the "healthy" number to anything less
than 25. Overnight, more than 25 million people who were previously
considered to be a healthy or normal weight were reclassified as
overweight. Looked at another way, the government artificially
manufactured an obesity crisis by moving the BMI goal posts.