Book Review: The End of Overeating

It should come as no surprise that Americans overeat, but learning all the reasons behind those size 24 pants may startle you. In 'The End of Overeating:Taking Control of the Insatiable American Appetite' by David A. Kessler, M.D., you'll go on a calorie-packed ride through the haunted house of food and fault.

The first forty pages are heavy with animal study evidence, where scientists stuffed rats with Froot Loops, Cheetos, and fat-laced sugar water, then did things like shock them to see if the newly-rotund rodents would continue to seek out snacks. (I guarantee this is an unrealistic data model, because if they tried that on me, I’d be eating a Twinkie with one hand, and holding up a geek by his throat up against the wall with my other hand, electrodes blasting his balls every few minutes while I ask him “Do you feel like frying fatties now? ZAP! How about now? ZAP!”) I started feeling bad for the literal furballs, and wondered if anyone called Jenny CritterCraig for them.

Eventually Dr. Kessler does add in more human anecdotes, and explores the Harry Potter-worthy arcane art of food science (It’s a pile of chemicals! Poof! It tastes like chocolate!) along with breaking down the menu items of places like Chili’s and Outback with the ‘How Many Times Has It Been Fried?’ game. I learned a lot, and I’ll never touch a Chicken Tender again, not even if it asks for it while dressed in sexy Ranch sauce.

The children’s consumption studies he cites are truly frightening; every parent should be required to read those pages before stepping into a fast food restaurant. I don’t even have kids, but my ovaries cinched up just learning about how food habits have changed across the generations. Of course, when I was a kid, if someone had a nugget, it was because they’d struck gold.

At the end of the book is a section called ‘Food Rehab,’ and I agree with most of his suggestions. Through years of trial and error, I’ve stumbled into many of them on my own, and found success. While ‘eat what you enjoy’ sounds like a no-brainer, once you step into the funhouse-mirror world of dieting and food cravings, especially with trendy diets pushing butter and meat while forbidding carrots, common sense goes out the window. I do disagree with the idea of flipping the switch, as it were, and creating negative emotions with food to break the conditioned hyper-eater’s reward system. Eating without attaching emotion to the experience is what worked for me, and I’m seventy-five pounds lighter. So there, nyah.

‘The End of Overeating’ is an eye-opening read; even if you don’t have hips that could knock out turnstiles and bruise toddlers, peruse this book to see what happens to your food before it goes into your pie-hole. You’ll be surprised, and maybe a little healthier.

Biting the hand that hungers you

I saw a paying blog opportunity at Freelance Writing Jobs this week; apparently, a well-known health magazine is looking for bloggers on the topic, and I wondered, does all my failure count as experience?

I have been on diet after diet in my adult life. The Atkins diet (which worked for a while, but made me really cranky), the diet where you eat mini-meals throughout the day, and, most recently, the South Beach diet, which allowed me to lose a little water weight, but also made me snap on day 6 of phase one. While I haven’t tried the Paleo diet (eating like hunter/gatherers), I do have a male friend on it. The main problem with diets in general is this: I’m so obsessed with what I can and can’t have, so I’m thinking about food constantly. “Can I have carrots? Can I have sprouts? Do I have to eat celery with tuna on it? What happens if I eat a Big Mac and fries? I don’t want a tiny square of dark chocolate, I don’t like dark chocolate, I don’t even care for any chocolate that much. I want a Twinkie!” And so on.

With all these diet plans and books, I was doomed to fail. With the South Beach diet, I was eating stuff I don’t like, plus I believe that sugarless gum should never be listed on a meal plan. That’s silly. With Atkins, the emphasis is on protein, which is good for my blood sugar, but I naturally prefer a less meaty existence. I’ll eat steak maybe once a year, turkey’s okay, can I have my Boca burger or tofu stir-fry now please?

What I have finally learned, after years of starving myself then pigging out again, is to listen to my own body. If left to my own devices, I eat fairly simply, and I’ve finally learned portion control. I could use more veggies, but who couldn’t, really? I love to walk, and will start walking more when the weather cools down. I also learned a trick years ago about treats: I don’t buy boxes of donuts or other goodies; if I want something decadent, I’ll buy it single-serving size at the market, indulge, then go on, remembering to not do that too often.

I feel like a hardened veteran of the food wars, not likely to turn my head over the latest fad. Eat less, sure, but eat foods you like, and move around more.

Hmmm. Maybe I will apply, after all.