REVIEW | We've heard this story before, but it's nice to know we're not alone
April 11, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Television Critic
I started dieting as a kid after I had an epiphany one day in social studies. A boy wobbled in front of me. I thought of my flabby belly. One regrettably crass thing ran through my head: "No girl is ever going to sleep with me if I end up with that kid's butt."
And so, I bought a calorie book and cut out sodas and sugar tea, butter, french fries, fast food and overeating. Food was the problem; I was already physically active. I lost weight. Cheerleaders said "hi." School got less stressful.
Since then, I've read books by nutritionists. I eat fist-sized portions about six times a day, and aim to work out six days a week. I also reject society's foodie nature. I don't try to make every meal delicious. I eat to end hunger pains. It's not a perfect lifestyle. But it works for me.
I realize this is a navel-gazing way to begin my review of "Fat: What No One Is Telling You" on PBS. But I want to acknowledge my ludicrous food journey so anyone who has considered weight loss (most of America) will relate when I say "Fat" is nothing we haven't heard before. Yet it's a useful report.
The documentary, narrated by Meredith Vieira, chronicles the stories of some heavy people, and sprinkles in nutritional information.
Comedian Mary Dimino says she exercises a lot "just to maintain this level of chubbiness"; a fat expert declares there are more than 300 calories in a big cup of soda; a large woman is embarrassed to be the huge passenger squeezed onto a small airplane seat.
As you see, there are no surprises in this special, not for those of us who've read much about nutrition. Still, I'd recommend it to people because there's comfort in knowing you're not alone. And uneducated fatists could see obesity isn't easy to beat.
Years ago, I dated a recovering bulimic who told me something striking that "Fat" doesn't focus on. Drug addicts go cold turkey. Someone with an eating disorder still must eat. Imagine if a heroin addict had to keep shooting up, but in a nutritional way. Eating disorders pose such a challenge.
In "Fat," a heavy man weeps, "I really want to lose the weight. But I don't think I'm ready to say goodbye to food."
Yet, he can't say goodbye to food. He still has to put it in his mouth. He has to say hello to eating healthier and exercising. Hard for him. Easy for me. Luck of the draw. Plus, his fat cells are already locked in place and battling him. Through diet, he can shrink them, not kill them.
That bulimic told me she saved her life partly by joining Overeaters Anonymous. I'd go with her to meetings as support, and for the first time I heard heavy people discussing how they binged on other people's garbage in Dumpsters, and thin women confessing that they exercised constantly.
Even with OA and a sponsor, this bulimic faltered at times. Sometimes, I'd wake up to hear her moaning. I'd ask if she was OK. She'd say something like, "I woke up at 3 and ate the cake in the fridge." Me: "How much of the cake?" Her: "The whole cake."
She won more battles than she lost. I imagine she might find a moment of support in watching this show. And if "Fat" can help women like her get through one more night of addiction, it's got value.
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Television Critic
I started dieting as a kid after I had an epiphany one day in social studies. A boy wobbled in front of me. I thought of my flabby belly. One regrettably crass thing ran through my head: "No girl is ever going to sleep with me if I end up with that kid's butt."
And so, I bought a calorie book and cut out sodas and sugar tea, butter, french fries, fast food and overeating. Food was the problem; I was already physically active. I lost weight. Cheerleaders said "hi." School got less stressful.
Since then, I've read books by nutritionists. I eat fist-sized portions about six times a day, and aim to work out six days a week. I also reject society's foodie nature. I don't try to make every meal delicious. I eat to end hunger pains. It's not a perfect lifestyle. But it works for me.
I realize this is a navel-gazing way to begin my review of "Fat: What No One Is Telling You" on PBS. But I want to acknowledge my ludicrous food journey so anyone who has considered weight loss (most of America) will relate when I say "Fat" is nothing we haven't heard before. Yet it's a useful report.
The documentary, narrated by Meredith Vieira, chronicles the stories of some heavy people, and sprinkles in nutritional information.
Comedian Mary Dimino says she exercises a lot "just to maintain this level of chubbiness"; a fat expert declares there are more than 300 calories in a big cup of soda; a large woman is embarrassed to be the huge passenger squeezed onto a small airplane seat.
As you see, there are no surprises in this special, not for those of us who've read much about nutrition. Still, I'd recommend it to people because there's comfort in knowing you're not alone. And uneducated fatists could see obesity isn't easy to beat.
Years ago, I dated a recovering bulimic who told me something striking that "Fat" doesn't focus on. Drug addicts go cold turkey. Someone with an eating disorder still must eat. Imagine if a heroin addict had to keep shooting up, but in a nutritional way. Eating disorders pose such a challenge.
In "Fat," a heavy man weeps, "I really want to lose the weight. But I don't think I'm ready to say goodbye to food."
Yet, he can't say goodbye to food. He still has to put it in his mouth. He has to say hello to eating healthier and exercising. Hard for him. Easy for me. Luck of the draw. Plus, his fat cells are already locked in place and battling him. Through diet, he can shrink them, not kill them.
That bulimic told me she saved her life partly by joining Overeaters Anonymous. I'd go with her to meetings as support, and for the first time I heard heavy people discussing how they binged on other people's garbage in Dumpsters, and thin women confessing that they exercised constantly.
Even with OA and a sponsor, this bulimic faltered at times. Sometimes, I'd wake up to hear her moaning. I'd ask if she was OK. She'd say something like, "I woke up at 3 and ate the cake in the fridge." Me: "How much of the cake?" Her: "The whole cake."
She won more battles than she lost. I imagine she might find a moment of support in watching this show. And if "Fat" can help women like her get through one more night of addiction, it's got value.
Comments