The United States of Obesity

     My home state of West Virginia is once again making headlines. According to a recently released survey from the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, more than a third of all Mountaineers are obese; only Mississippi and Alabama have more obese residents. West Virginia’s been losing the battle of the bulge for some time now (20 years ago, it was the 4th fattest state), so this isn’t exactly news. It always bugs me when people refer to West Virginia as a southern state (I lived in the northern panhandle which is much more aligned with the decidedly nonsouthern states of Ohio and Pennsylvania; plus, folks from the south still refer to us as Yankees), but the survey lumps W.Va. in with other struggling southern states and I’ll admit that’s a fair assessment. Besides bursting at the seams with fat folks, the heaviest states  – Mississippi, Alabama, West Virginia, Tennessee, Kentucky, Louisiana – have more than their share of poor folks. Not surprisingly, a lot of these people are depressed. Also not surprisingly, most don’t get any help for that depression. Instead of Prozac, they reach for full-fat ice cream or chips and dip. Besides antidepressants, you know what else boosts mood? Exercise. But when you’re living paycheck to paycheck, a gym membership isn’t exactly in the budget. My W.Va. relatives, unfortunately, are doing their part to ensure the state eventually is ranked first in fatties. I grew up there, I get it: As a kid, I rode my bike freely on the road in front of my parent’s rural house. Today, I won’t even walk on the berm for fear of being flattened by coal trucks and gas and oil company rigs. The area has changed. The nearest gym is a good twisty, turny 30- to 45-minute drive away. Finding a way to exercise is a challenge, to say the least.

     Today, my husband, sons and I live in Colorado, the state with the smallest percentage of obese residents of any in the nation. Unfortunately all this really means is that we’re the skinniest of the increasingly fat. Fifteen years ago, only 10 percent of Coloradoans were weighted down with excess pounds; that number’s now doubled to almost 20 percent. As one official said in this Denver Post article, “Being first in a race where everyone’s losing is nothing to be proud of.” Like the rest of the country, Colorado residents are packing more pounds than they should.

     Earlier this month, the USDA kicked its confusing food pyramid to the curb and replaced it with My Plate. The idea is that half of our plates should be filled with fruits and veggies (which are rich in vitamins, nutrients and

USDA’s My Plate

antioxidants) while the other half should be about evenly split between protein (meats) and grains (preferably whole ones). A small circle off to the plate’s side is for dairy (a glass of milk, a cup of yogurt). The nice thing about this redesign is that we can all relate to a plate (that pyramid thing? not so much). The government has given up trying to dictate how many servings we should strive for (we weren’t listening anyways), and instead is giving us a tool to help visualize what healthy portions and meals should look like. Of course, this will only help if people actually familiarize themselves with My Plate and use it. I’m curious, will you use My Plate when fixing your family’s meals?

     Want to see how fat your state is? Take a look at the full report.