Why We're Fat
When three-quarters of Americans are overweight, the problem is bigger than our habits.
Several years ago, I taught a pre-GED class for adults seeking to get their high-school equivalency diplomas. Most of the time, volunteers were left to come up with our own lesson plans and teaching materials, but there was one exception. Each semester, organizers would instruct us to teach a class on nutrition and fitness, providing us with bright flyers and fact sheets extolling the virtues of fruits and vegetables.
I gladly complied, assigning my students to write essays on the benefits of healthy eating. In return, I received many well-reasoned arguments about how, yes, they understood that salmon and broccoli are healthy. But they were working two jobs, taking care of kids, and trying to get their GED. Fast food, they wrote, is cheap, easy and tasty. So thanks for the helpful tips, but we’ll still be downing Whoppers on the way to class!
As a women’s magazine writer, I had produced countless reported pieces on the benefits of whole grains and leafy greens. I was bored as hell with the topic, but editors kept assigning these stories, so I kept writing them.
My students helped me see a bigger problem. They didn’t lack information; they knew carrots were healthier than chicken nuggets. They didn’t lack discipline; they were perpetual-motion machines of work-family-school. They lacked time and money. I was offering individual solutions; they were confronting a systemic problem.
The obesity rate has tripled since the 1970s, and more than 73% of Americans are overweight. As Washington Post food columnist Tamar Haspel points out, “When three-quarters of humans can’t navigate the system successfully, the problem is the system, not the humans.”
My students didn’t lack information; they knew carrots were healthier than chicken nuggets. They didn’t lack discipline; they were perpetual-motion machines of work-family-school.
Americans didn’t become lazier, more gluttonous, or less informed over the past fifty years. Instead, the environment changed; food got more fattening. In the 1980s, a typical blueberry muffin was 1-1/2 ounces and contained 210 calories; in the 2020s, that blueberry muffin weighs in at 4 ounces and has 500 calories. Cookies, bagels, soda bottles and candy bars are bigger now. In the 1950s, McDonald’s French fries came in one size—0.2 ounces smaller than what we now call “small.”
Panic in the snack-food aisle
Our food got bigger for a simple reason—the more we eat, the more money the food industry makes. So it has been interesting to watch the industry’s response to the new appetite-suppressing weight-loss drugs that recently hit the market.
A study conducted by Walmart finds that the people taking these drugs are spending less money on fattening foods, buying fewer units and fewer calories. And a Morgan Stanley analysis finds that the patients taking these medications have cut their consumption of baked goods, confections and sugary drinks by as much as two-thirds. At the same time, these consumers have significantly increased their consumption of fruits and vegetables. The research also finds that people taking the medications drastically reduced their trips to fast-food restaurants.
The Morgan Stanley researchers predict that 24 million people—nearly 7% of the U.S. population—will be taking these drugs by 2035. The patients prescribed these medications will, of course, be the ones struggling the most with their weight—aka the food industry’s best customers.
The news has sent industry executives scrambling to soothe investor concerns, a scene nutritionists find darkly hilarious.
“Imagine: if the drugs really do reduce appetite and interest in food—horror of horrors—people might eat less,” New York University nutrition and public health professor Marion Nestle wrote in a recent newsletter. “Eating less, as I have pointed out repeatedly, is very bad for the food business.”
On an investor call, Conagra CEO Sean Connolly said the company—which makes Slim Jims and Snack Pack puddings—is considering reducing portion sizes and changing ingredients. “If we end up seeing changes in consumer eating patterns, let’s say they go to smaller portions, then … we design smaller portions. If they switch to different types of nutrients, we evolve the innovation, we switch to different types of nutrients,” he said.
The industry that has been making our food more fattening for the past fifty years is now helpfully explaining that they can make it less fattening. Oh, well then.
Why bad food is cheap
Portion size is one reason American diets are so unhealthy. My students articulated another key factor—bad food is cheaper. As Vox explains nicely, a person would need to eat three apples to get the same number of calories in one doughnut—and the apples would cost them $5 more.
The price difference can be partially attributed to higher production costs—fresh strawberries must be picked by hand, but strawberries destined for jam can be picked by robots.
But unhealthy food also has an artificial advantage. The crops that receive the most U.S. government subsidies are corn, soybeans and wheat—the key ingredients for the high-fructose corn syrup, soybean oil and bleached wheat flour found in, for example, Twinkies. On the other hand, only 4% of federal farm subsidies support the production of fruits and vegetables—even though the USDA tells Americans that 50% of their dietary intake should come from those foods. The U.S. government scolds us to make healthy choices while putting its thumb on the scale for the unhealthy choices.
Just go for a walk?
Okay, so healthy food is expensive, but moving isn’t. We can all go for a walk, right?
When I wrote for women’s media, I often discussed the health benefits of a brisk walk. I lived in Brooklyn at the time and frequently popped out my door to get groceries, meet friends, pick up laundry.
“When three-quarters of humans can’t navigate the system successfully, the problem is the system, not the humans.” — Tamar Haspel
I knew this wasn’t how most people live, but I didn’t quite realize how unusual my situation was until we moved 100 miles north, and my requirement to live in a walkable neighborhood limited our options considerably. A 2023 report by the nonprofit Smart Growth America finds that in the country’s 35 largest metro areas only 6.8% of residents live in walkable neighborhoods. The report also says that restrictive zoning policies actually make it illegal to build walkable areas in many metro regions.
What makes a person more likely to live in a walkable neighborhood? Again, money. The Smart Growth America survey finds that rents are 41% higher and real estate costs 35% more in walkable neighborhoods. Most people don’t want to be car-dependent; a 2023 National Association of Realtors survey finds that 85% of respondents said that living in a place with sidewalks and places to walk to was important to them.
So what then?
In this newsletter, I want to do more than lay out infuriating facts. There is enough to be angry about these days; you don’t need to add Oreos to the pile.