Leptin babies, redux

Now the New York Times has taken up the idea of lacing baby formula with leptin to create children who are permanently unable to become fat.

I posted about this back in May, when the research on this first appeared. And I haven't changed my mind. Haven't we done enough damage by our relentless pursuit of thinness? Do we really think creating a generation of children whose bodies are permanently and deliberately made inefficient is a step forward? What if those children should find themselves in a situation where they need some nutritional reserves? What if they develop anorexia? Imagine the hell of trying to re-feed a child who is physically unable to gain weight. And what about when those children grow old, at a time in life when being "overweight" is correlated with having the lowest mortality risks? Maybe thin won't look so hot when it's a life--or death--sentence.

Maybe someday we'll stop confusing aesthetics with health. Yeah, right. And maybe someday I'll be president of the United States.

The fat wars

Deja Pseu's thoughtful, informative comment on my last post inspired me to start a new thread, which I've been thinking about all day, between reading and responding to comments here.

Deja asks why it's so much easier for people to accept the realities of a fast metabolism than a slow one. Good question. I think it's like the "career women" (in quotes because that was how they were known at the time) of the 1950s and 60s, at a time when most women didn't have careers outside the home. They were the women who made it by playing hardball with the boys, by becoming one of the boys. They paid dearly for their corporate successes, and they were considered freakish by the cultural norms of the time.

Those women were harder on the next generation of striving career women than any men. Their attitude was, "I had to suffer, sister, and by God, so do you."

And that's what Deja's question, and the whole notion of fat wars, reminds me of. In a culture where thinness confers status, and fatness confers untouchability, of course those who have it, who are thin, will hang on to their notions about it forever. To acknowledge that fat and thin are largely functions of genetics would be to give up that special status. And if you're not a naturally thin person, and you've practically killed yourself getting and staying thin, well, it's human nature to want others to suffer right along with you, isn't it?

Depressing thought.

Gina Kolata rocks

Tomorrow's New York Times Book Review features a review of Gina Kolata's new book, Rethinking Thin. While the reviewer accepts Kolata's most relevant point--that most fat people do not get thin despite countless diets and interventions--she scoffs at Kolata's conclusion: that maybe there's nothing so wrong with being fat.

This is one book I can't wait to get my hands on. The reviewer was obviously biased from the get-go, but luckily that bias is so clear that there's no mistaking it for critical judgment. Kolata is a wonderful science writer who knows her stuff. I'm looking forward to reading it for myself.

Changing the culture, one heart and mind at a time

Last night a friend told me that since my daughter Kitty's illness, her daughter had become very outspoken on the subject of anorexia. She said that whenever other teenage girls joked about it, she "set them straight"--a commendable act of friendship.

But what really made me want to stand up and cheer was when she told me about the day her daughter--Kitty's friend--came home and headed straight for the refrigerator. Apparently someone had told Kitty's friend she looked like she'd lost some weight. "I can fix that," she said, reaching for the whipped cream.

Here's what blows my mind about that: In a culture where all of us are so conditioned to think that thin is always good (and thinner is always better), it's hard to go against the stream. We parents of anorexics are shoved right up against this cognitive dissonance when we re-feed our ill children. It took the gut-wrenching experience of watching my child nearly starve herself to death to open my eyes and change my reflexive thin=good, fat=bad mentality. But Kitty's friend, who is still in high school, is a much quicker study than I am. She's learned from Kitty's nightmare and is already applying the lesson in her own life.

Her insight and perspective give me hope that although change seems to come slowly, it does come, one heart and mind at a time.