Honestly, the way that the drums bang about the obesity epidemic, I thought cookies would be public enemy number one right about now.

But that seems to be a part of the appeal of the diet. According to the experts interviewed for the New York Times article:

"The Cookie Diet is very appealing, because it legalizes a food - the cookie - that is banned from most weight-loss programs," said Jenni Schaefer, author of "Goodbye Ed, Hello Me: Recover From Your Eating Disorder and Fall in Love with Life" (McGraw-Hill, 2009).

"The diet gives people a false sense of control, simplifying balanced nutrition into one food: the cookie," she added.

In addition, the nutritional properties of said cookies are widely subject to interpretation:

[T]here are no clinical studies on any of the diets and that a key ingredient in Dr. Siegal's cookies - special amino acids, which supposedly curb appetite - is known only to Dr. Siegal and his wife.

"It's the particular mixture of proteins that does the job," Dr. Siegal said. "All foods do not handle hunger the same way, and high protein foods curb hunger." The cookies, he said, contain protein derived from meat, eggs, milk and other sources. They also contain microcrystalline cellulose - a plant fiber that acts as a bulking agent, emulsifier and thickener - and are sweetened with sugar.

However, other diet cookie makers are more forthcoming about how the cookies work. One of the competing brands, Soypal, relies on "okara, or soy pulp, which absorbs any liquids you drink with the cookies." Since the Soypal website recommends you drink two glasses of water or another beverage with each cookie, it's pretty clear that the diet cookies are designed to trick your body into thinking you've eaten.

Unfortunately, many of those who tried the cookie diet have found it lacking:

Ms. Pierson, who is in her 60s and lives in Manhattan, tried Smart for Life cookies, which come in chocolate, banana coconut, oatmeal raisin and blueberry last year, and lasted about three days. "I was weak, tired, irritable and hungry," she said. "I hated it."

I guess that just goes to show cookies really are a sometimes food.

A Few Cookies A Day To Keep The Pounds Away? [NYT]

Todd and her mother have always bonded over food: her mom's a comfort eater, and this becomes something they share. However, as the author grows up, she begins a cycle of comfort eating and yo-yo dieting that, oddly enough, strains their relationship.

Whenever I managed to lose weight, my mother said she was happy for me. But I detected a certain tightness in her voice, or maybe it was simply that I felt guilty about abandoning her: Now that I was a thin person, we no longer shared the extra large buckets of popcorn together. It was as if I'd gotten up from the kitchen table where we'd snacked and talked intimately and left her sitting across from an empty chair. I suspect she believed that my efforts to be thin were a rejection of her, and in a way, she was right. As much as I relished the smaller sizes and all the compliments from friends, every time I refused dessert or went for a run or lifted weights, I was warding off the specter of my mother's body, fighting the fear that I'd wake up one day and discover that somehow I'd become her.

Of course, this isn't really about food. It's about love, projection, acceptance, and female relationships in microcosm. Each relationship is obviously different, but we get so much of our sense of self from our mothers that it's inevitable that it should effect our perceptions - even if it's just the example of someone completely comfortable with herself, or blessedly disinclined to mention such things. These relationships can be famously damaging, or a source of bonding and mutual support - Beyoncé and her mom recently embarked on a joint diet. And the projection goes both ways; I know I've been quick to perceived criticism in comments of my mother's that I think, in retrospect, were just reflections of my own insecurities. A mother may not influence the way you present yourself to the world sexually, but she sure does effect the pattern of your interactions with other women. And, as women, we often couch things in terms of appearance that really have nothing to do with it. "I love your dress," we may use as a mode of introduction in a social situation - something men would never do. We feel we need to comment on the physical, for whatever reason, and a lot of times, this is probablt mirrored in the family. Hortense made a really smart point:

I think mothers and daughters use weight as a means to address, perhaps, the underlying issues behind a gain or a loss. It's easier to make a comment, I guess, about your child's physical appearance ("Are you eating enough? Are you dieting again?") than to ask, "Is something bothering you?" "Are you sad?" "Are you stressed out?"

In Todd's case, the balance of emotional power shifts with their weights. When she puts on some weight and her mother loses some - leaving them the same size - her initial reaction is resentment:

Let's start with the fact that my mother now had what I did not: time to exercise and make healthy meals. I'd be able to lose weight, too, I told myself, if I were a semiretired librarian with a free nutritionist. But it was more than that. For years, I'd blamed my mother for my yo-yoing weight, or, more specifically, for teaching me to associate food with comfort.

But the fact that her mother's thrilled with the new weight, and the author is distraught, ultimately provides a "teachable moment": for the first time, Todd realizes that it's not the food that's really at issue. "After all, thinness isn't the same thing as happiness and solace isn't the same as food." Of course, she only sort of believes that - as does Self, one can't help think nowadays. The piece is still predicated on the assumption that heavy = bad, and that bad habits and depression are the same thing as "weight" when in many ways it seems like two separate issues. The two end up bonding over healthy weight loss, and in a way food - unhealthy food - is still a demon and a villain, albeit one they're vanquishing together. (After all, bonding over food is not in itself bad: it can be wonderful and natural.) But the overall point is well taken: mothers and daughters and weight are a fraught issue. It makes sense: our relationship begins with feeding; we literally derive our nourishment from our mothers. Later, they form our habits, and later still a large part of our sense of self. The operative word is just that - self. (And that's with a small "S," by the way.)

Bonding With Mom Over Comfort Foods [MSNBC via Self]
Beyoncé's Mother/Daughter Diet [Extra]

The phrase "skinny bitch" once made a certain kind of sense: it reinforced the idea that thin is power, and more specifically, evoked steely Nuclear Wintour and Posh Spice types, whose scrawniness seemed to suggest an iron-clad will and a certain mystery. I guess. But "skinny bastard?" I'm picturing a tubercular Ratso Rizzo in Midnight Cowboy, or maybe some kind of meathead's wimpy sidekick henchman. And yet, as a piece in today's Times tells us, this is the next frontier for the women who shamed a generation into buying their tomes.

For anyone familiar with the abusive, strident, veganism-is-the-only-way tone of the inexplicably popular Skinny Bitch books, well, you know the drill. But, just as you'd expect from said dames, rather than bullying women with low self-esteem, this version flirts with men:

Whereas the introduction to "Skinny Bitch" reads, "If you can't take one more day of self-loathing, you're ready to get skinny," the men's version does not assume low self-esteem: "Chances are, you haven't done so badly, despite the few extra lbs you're carting around. ... But don't kid yourself, pal: A hot-bodied man is a head-turner."

Says some guy, Skinny Bastard "needs the perfect skinny bastard to endorse it like Victoria did...And I don't know who that would be." Well, first problem: the book should really be called "Skinny Asshole." That, at least, would evoke some kind of snarky, hipster cokehead, which might conceivably appeal to some very disturbed demographic; "skinny bastard" sounds like the runt orphan no one wants to adopt. And we never really thought of the legitimacy of one's birth as having much to do with weight, but thank to these ladies, we can't help it!

In any case, hasn't "Skinny Bitch's" moment kind of passed? Now that we're all concerned about actual things like losing our jobs and world affairs, has the notion of running around screeching, wielding a vegan riding crop, lost some of its brittle luster? We keep reading that comfort is in: escapist reads, cozy foods, feel-good movies. How, exactly, does voluntary girl-on-girl abuse factor into this? Or, for that matter, its equally superficial male equivalent? We hope, not much.

‘Skinny' Authors Have New Goal: Making Men Buff [NY Times]

Dropping two sizes in two weeks would mean losing about ten pounds a week. Doctors usually recommend losing no more than 1-3 pounds per week, which is especially significant for a magazine called Women's Health. It doesn't matter though, since the article is actually about "78 Ways to Cut 100 Calories." The writer claims that by doing so you can "poof" drop a dress size (which is also questionable) but never gives a time frame for this magical weight loss. Stephanie Quilao, who posted about<,/a> the "cover lie" on Back in Skinny Jeans, wonders, was the line just a mistake, or "in these tough times, are magazines getting ultra desperate to grab our attention?" [Back in Skinny Jeans]

Demands the New York Post's Maureen Callahan belligerently,

Just who decided French women are better than we are? The French? When did American women buy into this? Who says French women are more stylish, more cultured, have more and better sex, and can smoke and drink and eat whatever they want without suffering bad skin or contracting lung cancer or - worst of all - getting fat?

Her outrage is prompted by the latest entry in what Callahan terms the "American inferiority complex" genre, French Women Don't Sleep Alone, by some Francophile American who schools yanks in "The French Art of Flirtation." This of course comes on the heels of Mireille Giuliano's French Women Don't Get Fat juggernaut and the raft of copycats it inspired. (My personal favorite? The weirdly gushy Entre Nous.) Screw those soigne sylphs! Rails Callahan. Their awesomeness is a myth!

Oh, and not only do French women totally blow, says Callahan, but they all know it! And wish they were like American women! Who are way better groomed! Oh, and guess what? We have way more female CEOs and actual sexual harassment policies! This last salient fact actually comes from Mireille Giuliano herself (who, as is her wont, comments seemingly with no context,"It makes me very sad to see the fat people walking around in New York.")

Confession time: I am pro French Women Don't Get Fat. Twee? Sure. All that scarf-draping and baguette baking? Ludicrous. But! It's as common-sensical a diet book as I've ever seen, and there are far worse bestsellers than one that promotes water drinking, moderation and walking. Don't forget, all this started as an antidote to Atkins, the Great Satan of the Naughties. What's always struck me as funny about the phenom is that the concept — French mystique as diet book — is about as American a construct as has ever been thunk up; what people embraced as the height of continental sophistication was just domestic product, cleverly packaged. The whole French Women thing is a totally American construct! (I mean, obviously, they exist. And do they tend to be slim and chic? A lot of Parisians sure do.) Which is why Mireille Giuliano's business book should be a best-seller: talk about someone who's made the most of both cultures.

Oh, and to Maureen Callahan and her ilk, cool your jets: French women are probably more baffled by our weird girl-crush than triumphant. Says one of my friends, "I think it's really funny. French people don't really know how cool Americans think they are. They know about "la French touch", I even saw this indie Parisian band sing a song called "je suis French et j'ai la touch". But most French people don't know about that weird obsession you guys have for us. I only fully realized it when I moved here. People getting really excited that I'm French. It's kinda weird to be honest. But flattering." Obviously, I got enraged and told her to suck it, like a good American. Then I ate a donut.

French Women Can Suck It! [New York Post]

Here's the whole query:

Dear Amy: My husband and I are very friendly with a couple that we enjoy very much. We vacation with them and spend time with them in social gatherings. We love to entertain and are very good cooks. Whenever my friend and her husband come to our home, they always eat everything, and they usually have second helpings. My friend loves to entertain as well and does it well. You always feel very relaxed at their home. Our problem is that she used to cook wonderful meals, but now everything she cooks is fat-free. Her menu is always tasteless. She cooks it all in the morning and reheats it before serving it. She always makes a comment that she cooked too much because there is so much food left over. I would love to tell her it's because no one wants second helpings. My feeling is that most of her guests feel the same way we do. I don't want to hurt her feelings. Do we suck it up for the evening or say something? My husband said that we should just not accept invitations to her home for dinner and just go for parties, and eat before we get there. We were invited for Thanksgiving dinner, and the dinner was awful. Once again, she was overloaded with leftovers. How would you handle this situation? - Friend in Need

Amy says that, in the name of friendship, "Friend" must indeed make the best of the crap food - because "the most important aspect of being a guest is to allow yourself to have a good time, partaking of the fellowship of your friends, even if you don't particularly enjoy the food." Further, "your friend might have health issues necessitating her switch to low-fat cooking, or her tastes and abilities may have changed during the time you've known her."

In my opinion, there are a few details here that must be considered. 1: "friend in need" is something of a boastful jerk with misplaced, petty priorities - and yet, I trust her implicitly. 2: There is nothing worse than being trapped somewhere with horrible food, especially on Thanksgiving. 3: If the bad cook - who has no excuse since she used to be a good one, and how could her "abilities" have changed? - can't eat normal food, she has no business inviting people over and forcing them to conform to her diet. Harsh? Maybe. But if she's going to pull this kind of crap, then her friend can be equally selfish and turn down her invites (since, apparently, going to a restaurant is not an option and their relationship is completely based on foodieism.)

That said: obviously "Amy" is right and if you're a nice person you don't hold tasteless food against your friend and put the most charitable possible spin on her behavior. If you're not actually that nice but know you need to pretend to be, here is what you should have in your purse: beef, turkey or salmon jerky; dried apricots; almonds; if at all possible a Nature Valley fruit bar. (Some advocate a hard-boiled egg but I have had unhappy experiences with broken shells.) If you aren't on the go for a long time, a BabyBel cheese is a good addition, and the ball of wax is handy to have for molding under the table into miniature Easter Island heads. All of these can be downed during a clandestine trip to the powder room. Also: whenever at a deli, grab some of those little salt and pepper packets so as to easily doctor tasteless food on the sly. I know of what I speak: if, like me, you have certain close relatives who have been known to serve one ancient, unrefrigerated, dessicated carrot sticks, week-old supermarket rotisserie chicken with a soupçon of mold on the drumstick, and undefrosted clam chowder, such measures are a necessity.

Ask Amy: When host's food isn't to guests' taste [The Philadelphia Inquirer]

“'More and more, people are looking at calories in, and calories out,'” one shrink tells The Times. Here in New York, we kind of have no choice but to look at them: chains have to post the calorie content of each item in plain sight. Last month, California became the first to require the calorie counts statewide, while variations on the mandate are sweeping the nation; two proposals currently before congress would make posting calorie content a nationwide law. At customers' request, Starbucks has added "nutritional guardrails" for each item. Coke and M&Ms will soon list calorie content on the wrappers.

"Public health officials acknowledge that people rarely change their eating habits overnight, and that there is a lot more to good nutrition than simply counting calories. Still, they are trying to make sure consumers stay calorie conscious. Just to hammer the point home, the New York City health department earlier this month put signs inside subway cars pointing out that most people need only about 2,000 calories a day."

Well, does it work? Hard to say. Apparently, the New Yorkers polled were surprised by the calorie content of their favorite treats, and obviously some elementary notion of nutrition is not a bad thing. Then too, apparently the practice has led some places, like Starbucks, to reduce their portion sizes — never a bad thing. Yes, people obviously need to lose weight; but even in this piece The Times refers to this drastic measure as a "Hail Mary" by desperate public health officials trying to halt the spread of diabetes and obesity. While I certainly believe hearts are firmly planted in the right place here, my concern is that such policies could do as much harm as good. The article quotes a young woman who works at Chipotle (which under NYC law discloses calories): "The customers talking calories, she said, are mostly women, and mostly slimmer older women. Men, especially the younger ones, just ask for everything, and often ask her to double the portions."

Look, I'm not surprised some people gravitate towards calorie-counting, and even that they've demanded places like Starbucks do the math for them. Formulas and numbers comfort people, but they are also an easy way to develop compulsive attitudes towards food. The times in my life when I counted calories were not my happiest, nor my healthiest: I may have eaten fewer calories, but I also smoked more and lost a lot of the pleasure in good food that I think keeps me healthy now. Anxiety and guilt are as likely to be the product of such paternalistic practices as are thoughtful choices. (I should say that my boyfriend, thin and cheap, was delighted to see how many calories a Dunkin' Donuts bagel and cream cheese had: "so much more energy for my money!")

You shouldn't be not eating Starbucks baked goods because they're calorie-laden; rather, you shouldn't do it because the banana bread has the texture of sawdust and the glazed donut tastes like Play-doh smells. I'm skeptical of the canonization of French women, but I do think this sort of nonsense would be greeted with heavy skepticism in any reasonable Parisian boulangerie, if only because it so officiously interferes with the sacrosanct pleasures of eating. In fact, lately I avoid these places not out of guilt but because the calorie count makes me anxious and I start to get that unhealthy twinge of "numbers over nutrition" thinking. There is a wonderful Iris Murdoch quote: "Every meal should be a treat and one ought to bless every day which brings with it a good digestion and the precious gift of hunger." Amen.

Calories Do Count [New York Times]

Let's start with what the authors of this book consider a balanced diet. Notice how there's nothing green here at all.

When I got a colonic, the lady administering it (read: the lady in charge of my shit tube) listed stuff I should and should not be eating so that I could achieve regular, healthy bowel movements. Nine of the 12 edibles pictured above were on the "do not eat" list.

A lot of people who are lactose intolerant actually poop more when they eat dairy, but it just binds me something horrible so just looking at a picture like this, of a woman drinking a glass of whole milk (BTW, barf!) makes me feel all bloated.

Her outfit is awesome though.

I figured there would be lots diet tips amongst all the "healthy" talk, seeing as how this book is for women. I was right. According to this book, we're supposed to be reducing our calorie intake by the age of 15.

This picture was in the chapter "Dieting for Looks." She's supposed to be an example of someone looking to lose weight. Funny that there isn't a single mention of eating disorders.

Here's a chart of all the body types. I don't fit into any of these descriptions. However, I do tend to burn like that third chick.

I think this book had some kind of hidden agenda against the "health food industry" because it keeps trying to debunk the supposed benefits of organic food.

The whole health foods craze is beset with misnomers. Take the term "health food" itself. There is no scientifically based evidence to suggest that the so-called health foods are better for than other foods. The words "chemical" and "organic" are also commonly misused. To say that you want to eat food that contains no chemicals is a contradiction in terms, because all foods are chemical substances. Health food devotees often claim that their food is better because it's "organic." What they really mean is that it is grown on land enriched with fertilizers such as animal dung and garden compost. Almost all of our food is organic, simply because it is composed of organic chemicals. health foods are also often described as "pure foods." Does this mean that foods bought at ordinary stores are impure? Not necessarily. On the other hand, some so-called pure foods, although they may not contain any added chemicals, contain naturally occurring poisonous substances.

I'm no dietician, but that whole paragraph just stinks of bias and inaccuracy. The best though, is how much this book is into freezing things. They give you different ways to freeze and store strawberries:

That page should be called "Instructional Diabetes."

Lastly, this is supposed to be a page that shows vital, healthy women. For some reason, I find it totally disturbing and threatening.

Earlier: Woman Alive: Discover A Lovelier You

HOT TO TROT: Can pasty, less-than-svelte legs be buffed, sloughed and depuffed into picture-perfect condition in a mere 24 hours?

Um, I'm thinking your legs have to be a slightly less-than-less-than-svelte brand of pasty than mine, but seriously, what kind of challenge is this even? If you don't have time to give a shit about your legs, don't you just wear pants? And where would you suddenly find the time, money and uh, motivation to buy six kinds of anti-cellulite cream, wrap yourself in Saran Wrap overnight, consult numerous professional bloat-removers and perform thousands of squats and lunges? Well duh, you wouldn't. And that is the point. You are not that ridiculous. Look! Elle just made you feel good about yourself!

It's also a mind-blowing experience: I'm full and completely satisfied after three mindful bites.

Putting An End To Mindless Munching [WSJ]

This is something I've been doing for a while. At first it started in college, when I was super poor and would buy $.99 bags of party mix for a meal, and then eat all the good stuff, then toss the bag with the pretzels in it. Later on, I'd still be hungry, so I'd resort to fishing the bag out of the trash to eat the pretzels. As the years progressed, I've tried to use my trash can as a form of portion control or something, particularly when drunk. This past Valentine's Day, I got pretty wasted and decided to buy a cheese steak and cheese fries after leaving the bar at 2 AM. I got home, ate half the sandwich, felt disgusted with myself, and then threw it out. (I polished off the fries before I even got out of the cab.) In the morning, I woke up hungover and in the mood for something greasy. I went over to the garbage, found the other half of my sandwich and ate it, despite the fact that an empty packet of wet dog food was right next to it. More recently, I've dined on disposed buffalo wings.

I've talked to some of the other Jezebels about this and I know for a fact that I'm not the only one. It's slightly fucked up, because I know that it's rooted in an impulsive way to try to restrict my intake of the fattening food I love so much, and a compulsive need to actually finish it the next day. (There's also a big element of being just too lazy to drag my ass down and back up the four flights to actually buy new junk food at the deli.) But you know, it's still not one of the stupidest things we've ever done to lose weight.

Earlier:What's The Dumbest Thing You Ever Did To Lose Weight?

Ed Note: We hear about and see so many stories that we can't find the time to comment on that we're gonna try something new: "Leftovers", a daily "accounting" of the stuff we had to leave behind. Let us know if you like it, and, obviously, feel free to click through on the stories and flesh them out for everybody.

Dieting. The magazines would have you believe that "not dieting" is the new dieting, and it is true: not dieting is what everyone else will be announcing they are doing this season, even as they aggressively watch their portions so that their diets actually do resemble, on the basis of caloric intake, an actual "diet." My advice: keep your caloric intake limited to the point that you do not gain weight, but never say a word to anyone about how you are "not dieting." Everyone will assume you are not dieting, and wonder how you keep from gaining weight.

Jeans: Wearing them sometimes. Jeans have always, will always, forever and ever, generate some form of controversy. Some people wear them too much, and while that is okay if you live in Los Angeles, you just should not wear them to every social event anywhere else all the time, nor should you eschew them entirely. I know: they are comfortable. Except when they are not comfortable, which is when they look best, because they are too tight and you have paired them with a pair of, say, the latest peep-toe ankle boots, which is a good guide as to whether or not you should be wearing them to occasions on which you might be seen by people with larger incomes than your own. Speaking of which, that is a shortcut: how much did the jeans cost? If the answer is more than half your mortgage payment, you can wear them pretty much anywhere, so long as you are also thin, which goes without saying, right? Also, if you are in the vicinity of relative wealth and/or power and/or beauty, never wear classic "straight leg" jeans that might be confused for jeans you purchased last season, unless you want to risk be confused with the type of person who is easygoing enough to wear last season's jeans in the vicinity of wealth/power/beauty, which is probably too controversial a strategy for most, so if you choose to pursue it make sure you buy this season's straight-leg jean

Peonies. Some people think peonies are too voluptuous. Nonsense, I say! They are very pretty. But be forewarned: they die. Speaking of!

Your Natural Hair Color. I'm not suggesting you don't get your hair color treated to magnify its natural hue. But don't exaggerate... too much! The key is plausible deniability. Everyone gets her hair colored. But consider: how many lowlights would you need to make everyone believe that you are actually not everyone, in this one regard? Can you risk it? If you can, you may generate a whole controversy as to whether it is actually true that you don't highlight your hair (anymore.) Pulling this off will require an uber-exclusive stylist in whose salon you will not run into anyone you know. And what if you do? Act calm. "Ha ha ha, you really believed that?"

According to the LAT, the Loser brass has been encouraging contestants to chew it because "gum can curb appetite, prevent snacking and provide an edge in the weight-loss game." It might be true to an extent, but the contestants on Loser are also exercising several hours a day and being fed incredibly healthy food in a controlled environment. The fact that they're losing a ton of weight? Yeah, it's not the gum.

Chewing gum is also a weight-loss strategy among some of the women interviewed by Allure for an article called, "Junk-food dieters fake their way to skinny." Kate, a 32-year-old advertising executive, chews an entire 18-piece pack of Extra a day to avoid snacking. Other women interviewed for the piece swear by Diet Coke, Starbucks, Tasti-D, and those apocalyptic 100-calorie snack packs as weight loss helpers. "Many believe ingesting a few artificial ingredients is a small price to pay for being able to eat the things they love while staying as thin as a Pringle," according to Allure. Um, no shit? Basically, these women are counting calories and sometimes rely on processed foods to do so. How is this newsworthy? Eating fewer calories will always make you lose weight, even if those calories are spent entirely on sugar-free Jell-O. When your paramount goal is to be skinny, not healthy, you're going to resort to whatever measures possible to reach your goal. That said, I will give up diet coke when they pry it out of my cold, dead hands.

Chew Gum To Lose Weight? [Los Angeles Times]
Junk-food Dieters Fake Their Way To Skinny [Allure via MSNBC]

Earlier: Annals Of Anorexia
100-Calorie Snacks Are The Downfall Of American Civilization