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Years ago, when Woody Allen was plying his comic trade in the pages of The New Yorker,
he penned an offbeat tribute to the meaning of fat. He excoriated those who saw horror
behind every double-layer chocolate cake or custard pie. “Is fat intrinsically evil?”
he asked. But he was not referring to fat people. He was referring, rather, to the endemic
nature of fat itself—indolently embodied in the much-maligned fat cell. “Just
what is a fat cell?” he pleaded with existential urgency.
Despite my distaste for his off-screen behavior, I find it difficult to completely ignore
Allen. His satirical treatise on fat continues to resonate, especially when I weigh the
cons of eating a bag of mesquite-flavored potato chips against the pros of how many
calories I must expend in order to reach parity. (Maybe I have my gustatory pros and cons
reversed here.)
Eating junk food is an indulgence, a surrendering to psychological and somatic forces often
beyond our control and self-management. Societal forces are stacked so much against our
shrinking waistlines that any B.F. Skinner-trained psychologist will concede the
following: will power and self-denial is no match for the juggernaut-like appetite of the
advertising medium.
We are assaulted everywhere by the urge to spend...on food.
Take this driving test the next time you are stuck in commute traffic. Count how many
delivery trucks you see emblazoned with names such as Coca-Cola, Hostess, or Frito-Lay.
Or consider commercials during a particular prime-time period. Half the ads are either
extolling us to drive right over to Taco Bell, or are asking us to take Gas-X for
digestive relief.
So which will it be? The beef and bean burrito or a remedy for indigestion?
It is not a zero-sum trade-off in our consumerized culture, so it is our job
to select which blinders we choose to wear. Sitting in front of a television five hours a
night is an American pastime. How easy is it to withstand the onslaught of an incessant
stream of product pitches for beer, candy, soft drinks, chips, and hamburgers?
TV manufacturers should just make television sets with built-in refrigerators. Call them
HDTV fridges. TV dinners of the 21st century. They could save a trip to the kitchen.
A growing chorus of health advocates have begun proposing the following draconian solutions:
ban all advertising for junk food, or place a tax on junk food purchases. Their reasoning
is that health care costs would significantly decrease. It sounds radical, but is it? Once
upon a time, tobacco commercials seemed to dominate the airwaves. The cigarette lobby
seemed invincible. Fortunately, its power and political clout have waned since the days of
the Lucky Strike dancing girls, and it doesn’t pain me in the least to see smokers now
accorded fugitive status in California, where smoking is banned in bars, restaurants, and
public places.
Sugar can be as addictive as nicotine. And we know about alcohol. The country’s banning of
booze during the Prohibition Era was short-lived. But can you imagine a nationwide ban on
junk food? Will this lead to sugar speak-easies? What will it take to a wean a
sweet-toothed nation of its craving for Pop Tarts, gum drops, and donuts? We are a nation
of Homer Simpsons. Our introduction to sugar begins at an early age with artificially
sweetened baby food and sugar-coated breakfast cereal.
Instead of Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers, or the Zone Diet, perhaps we should create
nationwide chapters of SA: Sweet-Tooth Anonymous.
Kids get addicted to sugar in grade school. Just peek inside a 7-Eleven near an elementary
school when classes let out in late afternoon. The store is usually jammed with kids
loading up on jawbreakers, licorice, candy bars, and soft drinks. Ritalin vs. Reese’s
Pieces: parents, you make the blood-sugar call.
Anyway, this is all food for thought. I imagine I could live in a sugar-free society.
My only regret would be saying goodbye to tiramisu. There are some things in life simply not
worth giving up.
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