Multiply 260 by 0.667, and you get 173 and change. One year ago, I weighed 260 pounds (about 118 kg). This morning, I weighed very slightly less than 173 pounds. I want to emphasize here that although I’m pleased with this progress, it would be a mistake to say that I’m “proud” of it—the success in getting back down into the 170s is attributable to the American Pharma Industry developing suitable drugs to address (and reverse) problems created by the American Food Industry. (My ultimate goal, if you must know, is probably somewhere around 160–I’m five-foot-eight, about an inch shorter than I was in college, so not too terrible a decline in height.)
What I brought to the table (so to speak) was my willingness to find ways to afford medications that my insurance would not yet cover. It may do so now—will check at refill time. If you want to know what role my willpower and resolve played, it’s this: I made the decision to prioritize fixing a persistent health problem that dates from my early 20s. Although I had been overweight from time to time before then, true obesity itself didn’t start manifesting for me until about 1980. For a long time I thought it was something particular to my own life that had changed. (I had graduated from college, was trying to figure out next steps in work and education, wasn’t always eating the best food, started drinking more—alcohol is a great analgesic, and putting on weight quickly tends to increase one’s daily aches and pains.) Did I exercise? Why, yes, and I also developed significant muscle mass, which was helpful in moving around a much larger version of myself. (It should be noted that the rise in gym memberships in the USA tracks the obesity stats—Americans were investing in working out more *at the very same time* that obesity was on its abrupt rise.)
But what I was slow to recognize was that the same problems I was having (fairly rapid increase in weight, increasing experiments with dietary change in the hopes of reversing the lurch into obesity—experiments that ultimately weren’t successful and that may even have made things worse) were not specific to me, but in fact were accelerating through the U.S. population and then quickly afterwards in most of the developed world. The global stats showed that this was happening everywhere in reasonably prosperous or quickly developing countries soon after this obesity acceleration manifested in the USA.
The chief candidate as a source of the problem seemed straightforward, a quarter of a century after 1980: the industrialized production of food as a product shaped as much by applied chemistry as by agriculture. One reason Michael Pollan’s FOOD RULES and other writing on how to eat have continued to be current for years even as various diet books have fallen by the wayside is that they shift our attention to, inter alia, buying one’s food around the edge of the supermarket—that’s where the more natural, and more recently grown, produce at, e.g., Whole Foods and Safeway, lives.
But while following Pollan’s prescriptions (I’m using the word metaphorically—he’s a science journalist, not a doctor) might help someone avoid the sources of the obesity epidemic, it’s less successful in reversing that epidemic. For someone like me—and here I still hesitate to share that for a long time weighing in the mid-200s of pounds signified success for me, because for one mercifully brief period in the late 1990s I crossed the 300-pound line—more proactive interventions, including medical interventions, seemed necessary. Part of getting my weight to move in the downward direction was bariatric surgery (in late 2004), which certainly helped keep me alive long enough to reach the era of Ozempic et al., but which, as is the case with most weight-loss surgery, was only partially successful in returning to non-obesity … or achieving it in the first place. (Childhood obesity is a major thing now in the USA and elsewhere—earlier in my lifetime, it wasn’t.)
So here I am in 2026, weighing at least a few pounds less than I did when entering college in 1975, trying to make sense of where I am now. The guy I see in the mirror is visibly older, but in most respects better looking and fitter than I have been for most of adult life. But I also have to wonder what my life might have been like if I had never had this particular health issue … well, “weighing me down” seems like an appropriate trope.
I hope to make up, in the time I have left, the progress in my professional work that I might have achieved had I been healthier over most of the last four or five decades. But I should stress that there have been a few ways in which my path has been helpful to me professionally and personally. First, I really have done an immense amount of avocational academic research to get a handle on the problem—here I credit my undergraduate education at UT Austin for building in me the habit of reading scientific papers on the regular, rather than mere journalistic or other popular accounts of what the research may or may not show. I also acquired a certain amount of persnicketiness when it comes to experimental models, for which I should credit Plan II philosophy (at UT Austin) for introducing me to Karl Popper’s work specifically, and the philosophy of science generally.
My work as a journalist and as a lawyer has also made me more careful about sourcing what I post or publish, which is all to the good, even when the topic in question is not food or medicine or even science generally.
But most important, I think, is that my inability to solve my particular problems through application of willpower/resolve has made me more sympathetic to other people who can’t just willpower their ways out of their difficulties, which may be health-related or rooted in something else. I listen better now, I think. Now if I could just trigger an epidemic of better reading, better listening, and greater willingness to question one’s own theories at least as much as one critically examines those of others—that would be something I could really be proud of.
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