More Isn't Always Better

America is a land of many riches; those of us who call it home are, to my thinking, fortunate to be able to do so. Geopolitical strife aside, America still offers the greatest opportunities for growth and prosperity. It is principally for this reason that those who seek better lives for themselves and their families aspire to settle here. Since our founding it has always been so.

The opportunities about which I speak are not purely financial. While it is true that the American standard of living is among the highest in the world, it is, I suspect, the freedoms that our society affords that make life here such an attractive notion.

I can't know what impressions our country leaves upon those who visit here or upon those who arrive here to begin their lives anew, but it has occurred to me throughout the course of my travels to distant countries that those who come here must be struck by our abundance. The particular abundance may vary dependent upon the proclivity of the observer, but that which must be especially awe-inspiring is the variety and sheer volume of our food choices. Surely we are not alone in that regard; other countries share our good fortune as it relates to the availability of foodstuffs, but few countries can boast of the vast repositories (let's call them grocery stores) where these items are held for inspection, and ultimately, purchase.

Far from boasting about such repositories, other countries are likely to point to them as a symptom of the disease that has taken hold of our country and threatens to shake it to its very foundation. As I sit here and peck away at my keyboard, fully two-thirds of my fellow Americans are either overweight or obese. The statistics related to this epidemic are truly staggering, both in terms of the increases in the rates during the course of the past few decades and the costs that our society must bear to manage the medical issues that grow out of this alarming shift in the direction of obesity.

Let me assure you that I, as much as anyone, know that none of us gets out of this alive. We will all one-day breathe our last. That being so, some might argue that they should be left to lead the lives they choose. Forgetting the cost that each of us are made to pay to care for those whose choices lead to protracted illness and non-productivity, it is my general feeling that they should be free to do as they will. I do not attempt to reach those through this book. After all, we cannot, in spite of Mayor Bloomberg's (New York City, 2002-2013) attempts to do so, legislate good health. Neither can we bully people into it, although Jillian Michaels has made millions trying to do just that. People must go willingly into this challenge, not poked or prodded but self-motivated. I address those people who hope to maximize their lives if not extend them outright, those who look to reduce the weight that they feel limits their opportunities to enjoy their lives to the fullest. For those there is a path that leads to increased vigor and restored health. Mind you, for most it will be a long and difficult slog. But as is true with most of life's battles, those that are hard- won are most treasured.

This particular path begins with one especially agonizing first step, a step that comes in the form of an admission: the weight you carry is a product of your own doing. As a younger person, I attempted to convey this very message to a group of "weight-challenged" women in Northern California. Were it not for some apologetic backpedalling, they would have run me out of town on a rail. Vowing to fight another day I revisit that notion here.

For entirely too long we have been told that our problems, whatever they might be, are not of our own creation. We are all victims of outside forces that conspire to separate us from our bliss, or so we are led to believe. As it pertains to our weight, we cannot break free from the legacy bequeathed to us by our parents and theirs. Or can we? Sure, some inescapable genetic predispositions dictate where and how we store our excess body fat. However, for the excess fat itself, we must take responsibility. Some might find this stance a bit harsh, particularly for those who began adding to their fat stores at a very early age. Still, it is my feeling that we must own our weight if we are going to own the changes that ultimately bring our weight under control. Sadly, that alone will not get you to where you want to be. Others have accepted that responsibility and failed to achieve their goal. In fact, the diet landscape is awash with such failure. How then are we, they, any of us to succeed when failure is so commonplace? I'll tell you what, let's come back to success after we've had a good hard look at failure.

Most of you who have bothered to read this far have at one time or another participated in a diet program. In fact, statistics indicate that many of you have involved yourselves in multiple such programs. Encouraged by a friend or family member who saw the diet featured on Dr. Oz, or read it was used to great success by a long list of Hollywood celebrities, you thought, why not? Spurred on by draconian calorie restriction, you might even have appreciated some early weight loss. But overtime you simply could not adhere to the diet's narrow and/or stringent guidelines and back came the weight. This same scenario plays out in American homes on a daily basis. Whatever the plan, whichever foods it vilifies, and however it purports to accomplish its purposes, most diets fail.

While the reasons for these failures may be many, the common thread that seems to run through all diets is their failure to address what I consider our pathologic relationship with food. We Americans eat for reasons other than to satisfy hunger. If only hunger drove our desire to eat, none of us would be overweight, let alone obese. And if hunger motivated us to eat, then it stands to reason that satisfying hunger would cause us to cease eating. Sadly for many, hunger is but one of a litany of reasons that compel us to feed. Equally sad is the fact that satisfying our hunger fails to turn off the need to feed. Thanksgiving dinner is not the only meal that leaves us feeling discontentedly overindulged. Yet in this pattern we persist. Eating not necessarily because we're hungry, but because we're angry, or frustrated, or lonely, or disappointed, or unloved, or bored, or because someone else is eating, or because it's time to eat, or because there is food to eat, or we...