If you
follow health-related news in the mainstream media or regularly read peer-reviewed
scientific literature on obesity, weight loss, or health and nutrition and in
general, you can confirm my observation that the phrase, “Obesity is associated
with…” is bounced around so frequently, it gets more action than a metal pinball
in a 1980s arcade. And in place of that ellipsis (the three little dots), feel
free to put just about anything you like, because I can pretty much guarantee
someone’s established an association between obesity and whatever that other thing
is: heart disease, diabetes, cancer, depression, a flat tire on your way to
work, and rain on your wedding day. (With apologies to Alanis Morisette.)
Note
that word: association. Unless and until a firm chain of causation between two
things has been established, researchers have to be very careful with their
language. (Believe me, I know. In my other professional capacity, writing for a supplement company that is committed to sticking to the science, I have to get pretty
creative with ways to stay safely within the confines of FDA regulations
regarding the mechanisms of action of certain products. For example, I can
never say something like, “This vitamin formula is specifically designed to help manage diabetes.” Instead of making that kind of “disease claim,”
I have to stick to what is known as “structure/function claims,” which are super boring and tepid -- as in, “May help support healthy blood sugar levels,” or “Contains
taurine, a compound required for healthy liver function.”) My point is, because
no one wants to get sued, everyone has to skirt the legal edges of nutritional
rhetoric.
But
here’s the thing. Between you and me—just us friends here—we all know that when
obesity researchers say “association,” they’re implying causation. They want
to say causes. Obesity causes [insert-awful-and-expensive-health-condition].
But they can’t. Because it doesn’t.
That
is, not usually.





