Why chasing an hourglass figure is a fool's errand.

 

ursus@zdeneksasek.com | Deposit Photos

It's close enough to New Year's that we can talk about resolutions, right? And people still automatically write "I will lose weight this year" as one of their resolutions, right?

Perhaps capitalizing on this trend, BBC Science Focus magazine has an article in its latest issue called, "Key weight-loss mystery solved: New research suggests fat cells have a 'memory'". (I would love to give y'all a link to this article, but it looks like you have to subscribe to see the articles in the latest issue. I have access through Apple News+, which I have found to be a decent news aggregator.)

The article quotes Dr. Ferdinand von Meyenn, assistant professor at ETH Zurich's Department of Health Sciences and Technology, on a recent study conducted by him and his team. They looked at a group of people, some of whom were "living with obesity" (their phrase) and some who weren't, who had lost 25 percent of their body mass index, and compared the differences in DNA sequences in their fat tissue before and after the weight loss. What they discovered -- brace yourselves -- is this: "The body really fights against [weight loss] and wantes to return to its original weight. The adipose tissue is programmed to want to regain that weight." 

As a reformed yo-yo dieter, I am here to say: No shit.

He goes on to say that people who lose weight and can't keep it off aren't weak: "There really is an underlying molecular mechanism driving gaining the weight back."

As the same reformed yo-yo dieter: Also no shit. 

We have discussed this several times here on hearth/myth. To save you from trawling through years of posts, I will give you the link once again to Wikipedia's article about the Minnesota Starvation Experiment, which was conducted toward the end of World War II. The idea was to find the best diet for people who endured starvation during the war to make them healthy again. But first, the researchers had to create starving people. So they recruited a bunch of guys and put them on a starvation diet. Long-term dieters would recognize the result: many of the experiment subjects quit, many others cheated, and a significant number developed mental illnesses ranging from depression to hysteria: "Participants exhibited a preoccupation with food, both during the starvation period and the rehabilitation phase. Sexual interest was drastically reduced, and the volunteers showed signs of social withdrawal and isolation."

The point being that yeah, fat cells want to be fat again. Duh.

You would think that could be circumvented by getting rid of the excess fat cells. That procedure is called liposuction, and it was all the rage in, oh, the '80s or '90s. It sounded great 'til people started getting infections from having it done in sketchy clinics. Nowadays, it's recognized as plastic surgery and not a weight loss option, and patients are advised that if they don't watch their diet, the weight can come back -- because as it happens, it's not just the fat cells themselves that remember how big and robust they used to be. Our bodies have developed a system over centuries to survive famine -- it's called adaptive thermogenesis -- and they interpret diets as just another famine. Which is why all those guys in the starvation experiment went kinda crazy. Also, vacuuming out some fat cells doesn't do away with your body's ability to make more fat cells to replace them.

Dr. von Meyenn says we should be focusing on obesity prevention instead of trying to cure it after it has already happened. That's not much help for those of us for whom prevention is too late.

Here is the one thing I know for sure to be true, after decades of dieting: Diets don't work. And chasing that hourglass figure will probably just leave you disappointed, depressed, and thinking about food all the time. And that's no way to live.

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These moments of anti-dieting blogginess have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell. Stay safe!

Snow Globe: a holiday ficlet.

As alert hearth/myth readers who have glanced at the calendar recently know, it's time for my annual holiday gift to you: a ficlet that has something to do with the season.

It looks to me like I wrote the first holiday ficlet in 2017, making this the eighth year of the tradition. I haven't written a lick of fiction since last year's ficlet, but I've resisted the urge to make this into a regular essay-type post.

I'm also not going to do what I usually do and make this a promo for one of my existing series (mainly because I'd have to spend way too much time re-reading to get the voices back in my head. Wait, that didn't come out right. Oh, you know what I mean). 

Anyway, here goes. Hope you like it. 

🌟

NewAfrica | Deposit Photos

Cynthia wandered the town square like a lost soul. Here she was, on a tour of European Christmas markets -- a trip that had been on her bucket list forever -- and she couldn't focus enough to buy a single gift for anyone on her list.

She had been feeling so discombobulated lately, and she couldn't figure out why. She was in her late fifties, with the blessings of good health, good skin, and a job that allowed her to afford European vacations. Her kids were grown. She'd kicked their sperm donor to the curb years before. The kids hadn't given her any grandchildren yet, but to be honest, she was okay with that. She had friends, hobbies, the works. And yet sometimes she wondered what she was doing with her life.

She was pretty sure she wouldn't find the answer to that question at an English Christmas market, but here she was anyway.

A booth full of shiny baubles caught her eye. She looked closer: jewelry? Christmas ornaments? No -- snow globes. She couldn't remember ever giving anyone a snow globe for Christmas.

She ambled over. There were lots of designs to choose from: churches, thatched cottages, snowmen, single snowflakes, Christmas trees, nativity scenes, and even a Nakamura tower. She picked up an old-style London telephone booth filled with a Christmas tree in the requisite sparkly goo and asked the attendant, "How much?"

"Thirty pounds, mum," the woman said brightly. "It lights up, you see, and even plays a little tune."

Cynthia mentally toted up the gift list for her office staff, did a quick pounds-to-dollars conversion in her head, and nodded. "I'll take a dozen."

The clerk's eyes widened. Then she smiled broadly. "Excellent choice, mum! I will box them up and send them to your hotel straightaway."

Cynthia laughed as she handed over her credit card. "I guess it's obvious that I'm a tourist."

"We do get a lot of you at this time of year," the woman said. Then she gave Cynthia a long, almost calculating look. "If you would be interested, we have a special offer just now: buy a dozen, get one free." In a confiding tone, she went on, "You could keep the extra for yourself."

For the first time, Cynthia took a good look at the clerk. She was short and plump, white-haired, with round cheeks and a grandmotherly smile -- but something in her gaze seemed to shoot straight through to Cynthia's soul. She heard herself say, "Which one would you recommend?"

"This one," the woman immediately said, holding out a traditionally-shaped globe. "It's very special."

Cynthia took it in her hands and examined it. "It's empty," she said. It held usual glittery snow and liquid, but nothing else.

"You fill it yourself," the woman said. "The directions are in the box."

Cynthia was by no means an artsy-craftsy person, but she took the globe anyway. She gave the clerk the delivery information for the box of phone booth globes; the "special" one went into her tote bag.

That evening, back in her hotel room after a convivial dinner with new friends she had met on the tour, she remembered the odd globe. She pulled its box out of the tote bag and opened it. The directions for filling it were odder than the globe itself.

Second Saturn Return Globe

Hold the snow globe in your hands and visualize your life ten years from now. 

"Ten years from now," Cynthia murmured. She would be nearly seventy then, and hopefully retired. Although her job was lucrative, and satisfying in its way, she didn't mean to do it until she dropped dead. What would she do instead? Where would she live? 

Holding the globe, she closed her eyes. A door clicked open in her mind. She could see herself on the deck of a beach house, gazing across a calm body of water as the sun rose. She knew instantly that her day would be full: teaching part-time at the local community college, swimming in the college pool, having dinner later with good friends. Life was perfect. She felt at peace.

She raised the mug of tea in her hands to her lips -- and kissed the snow globe. "Oh!" she exclaimed, pulling it away hurriedly. 

The globe was still empty, but she thought she could see inside it the palest outline of a beach cottage on a sandy shore.

"It's a start," she said, and smiled.

🌟

These moments of imaginative blogginess have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell. Happy holidays!

Mama Google might still know all, but it's hard to tell.

For the past several years, one of my favorite sayings has been, "Mama Google knows all." Never before was there a time in history when we could reach into a pocket or purse and consult a device that can answer any random question in a matter of seconds.

Assuming we have a signal.

And assuming the answer isn't behind a paywall.

And assuming the search results aren't junked up with ads.

And assuming the US Department of Justice's order that Alphabet sell off its Chrome browser sticks (which I am pessimistic about, for reasons I'll explain below).

Things are changing rapidly enough on the internet-search-engine front that the Wall Street Journal* ran an op-ed a couple of weeks ago suggesting that someday soon, saying "Google it" may be an age test: 

People are increasingly getting answers from artificial intelligence. Younger generations are using other platforms to gather information. And the quality of the results delivered by [Google's] search engine is deteriorating as the web is flooded with AI-generated content.

The WSJ article goes on to say that a lot of shoppers are bypassing Google's results to start their searches on Amazon. But I am here to tell you that that comes with its own set of problems. Amazon's results, too, are junked up with ads and banners like "Amazon's Choice" (which, when you read the fine print, actually means "Amazon's Choice for searches about a specific thing that wasn't in your query and you may not care about"). I've found that in many cases, Amazon's search parameters aren't granular enough. Or if they don't carry the exact product I'm looking for, they'll give me seven pages of things that might fit the bill, but probably don't. At least a Google search still provides a range of retailers that claim to carry the product I'm actually looking for, regardless of whether it's in stock.

That's for shopping. If you're looking for information, though? Maybe start with Wikipedia.

AI search responses are no help -- or not as helpful as they could be. At Thanskgiving, I went looking for information on converting a regular recipe for Brussels sprouts to one for a convection oven, so I could make them with my microwave's convection-oven feature while the turkey was roasting in the regular oven. Naturally, I asked Mama Google. Her AI feature said they would take 20 minutes at 375 degrees. What a time saver, right? Yeah, well, it was a good thing I punched through to an actual recipe. What the AI should have said was that the sprouts needed 20 minutes on the first side, then another 15-20 minutes on the flip side. And it took forever to find that information, because the vast majority of recipes Google offered me didn't have directions for convection cooking, even after I put "convection oven" in quotes.

And all that's on top of the valid complaints from human content creators that AI purveyors are scraping their content to "train" their AI engines without their consent -- and without compensation.

While the DoJ's move to force Google to sell off its Chrome browser is a good idea, I don't think it will solve the problem for end users. If it proceeds anything like the antitrust case against Microsoft, which started with a US Federal Trade Commission inquiry in 1990 and resulted in court approval of the legal settlement in 2004, it will drag on for years and not change much of anything. 

And I expect the antitrust actions against Big Tech will wither under the new administration anyway. I'm sure that's a big reason why tech companies are giving massive donations to Trump's inauguration fund, even though they may also be afraid of retaliation for kicking Trump off their social media platforms after January 6th.

In all, I think the halcyon days of having the answer to life, the Universe, and everything in our pockets are probably just about over. Maybe Google should bring back its "I'm feeling lucky" button.

And I guess I should look for a hard-copy convection-oven-conversion cookbook before AI gets hold of them and screws them all up.

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* Speaking of paywalls: I apologize. I thought that Yahoo! link to the WSJ story could get y'all around the WSJ paywall, but no -- it's a stub article that redirects to the WSJ website. Sorry about that.

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These moments of searchable blogginess have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell. Stay safe!

The health insurance CEO and the backlash.

Welp, so much for taking a break from the news. 

As you have likely heard by now, the chief executive officer of UnitedHealthcare was shot to death Wednesday morning in midtown Manhattan, outside the hotel where the company's annual investor conference was to start a couple of hours later. The assailant is still at large.

That's all I'm going to say about the murder. Feel free to google for more info; details, breathless updates, and social media rumors have been rife since it happened. 

(This story even eclipsed a school shooting that happened in California Wednesday afternoon. Although since only three people died -- two kids and the shooter, who killed himself -- it doesn't even qualify as a mass shooting. I only found out about the school shooting on social media, from friends who were commenting on the difference in coverage between the two incidents.)

The most interesting reaction to the UnitedHealth story has been to the company's social media posts about the CEO's death. Every last reaction has been a laughing emoji -- at least 77,800 on its post on the dead bird app.

While I don't condone violence in any form, I've gotta say that I get why people are laughing. UnitedHealthcare reportedly has the highest rate of claim denials in the country. And a congressional subcommittee report released this fall has taken insurers to task for using AI to deny more Medicare Advantage claims than ever. 

artursz | Deposit Photos

In short, people are undeniably angry. They're forced to pay for health insurance, and when they have to use it, the insurance company has the power to decide whether to pay for their doctor-ordered care -- on the basis of cost alone.

This happened to me several years ago. My doctor at the time had put me on a new medication called Januvia for my diabetes. She gave me a batch of samples, and they worked well. But when she wrote me a prescription, my health insurance at the time refused to pay for it; they wanted me to try other, cheaper medicines first. Those, of course, didn't work. Eventually my insurer did cover Januvia, but the whole thing was pretty frustrating, not to mention ridiculous.

This wasn't life or death for me -- just annoying. But it's not hard to imagine how people who are in life-or-death situations must feel when they're placed in this sort of situation. It's heartbreaking, and so unnecessary. And everybody knows it's all about the bottom line for shareholders.

Which is what probably inspired the CEO of UnitedHealth Group, the parent company of UnitedHealthcare, to issue a message to its employees via video. (Apologies for the Vanity Fair dunning notice at the link; I have access to the magazine via Apple News, which didn't charge me extra for it.) In the video, Andrew Witty called the open-season on his company a result of "aggressive, inappropriate and disrespectful" media coverage of the murder. He goes on to tell his workers, "I'd encourage you to tune out that critical noise that we're hearing right now. It does not reflect reality." The reality, he says, is that "the health system needs a company like UnitedHealth Group." He also says, "We guard against the pressures that exist for unsafe or unnecessary care to be delivered, in a way that makes the whole system too complex and ultimately unsustainable."

You might have noticed that he left out the part where companies like his add to the "too complex and ultimately unsustainable" nature of healthcare in this country. In fact, UnitedHealthcare has been in trouble with the federal government: among other things, the Justice Department launched an antitrust investigation into the parent company in November. And there's been class-action suit filed against UnitedHealthcare over shenanigans related to denials of coverage for its Medicare Advantage customers.

On social media yesterday, I called health insurance a remora -- a parasitical creature that feeds off its host, improving the life of nobody but itself. These companies' whole reason for being is to take in premiums and keep as much of that money for their executives and shareholders as possible -- and they do it by denying payment for services that doctors order for their patients.

It's a miserable system, and Congress could end it by enacting Medicare for All.

I'm not holding my breath.

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These moments of bloggy disgust have been brought to you, as a public service, by Lynne Cantwell. Stay well!