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Skinny drinking

SHE’S SEXY. She’s smiling. She’s coming your way. And then she leans forward,
peers at your beer belly and purrs: “I like men. I just hate their guts.”

Men in Britain have been getting this message a lot lately. The temptress is
a pouty Budweiser model who peers from bus posters and magazine pages—and
she has plenty to say. “I don’t chase men who can’t run away,” teases one ad.
“Men who neglect themselves will never have a body like mine,” taunts another.
These slights are all part of Budweiser’s campaign to make British men fret
about their beer bellies—and reach for a 100-kilocalorie Bud Light, a brew
newly available in Britain.

If you live in the US, don’t laugh. Light beers—which are lower in
calories than most regular beers—already make up about 40 per cent of the
American beer market and are gaining ground in Australia and mainland Europe.
Industry marketers pin the trend on a growing desire to live healthier, thinner
lives. But will avoiding your regular pint or two of full-strength beer really
portend a sleeker, sexier you? As it turns out, the answer is as murky as the
dregs at the bottom of a keg.

To be sure, pure alcohol packs calories: about 7 kilocalories (kcal) per
gram, compared with 9 kcal for fat and 4 kcal for carbohydrates and protein. A
pint of beer holds about 170 kcal—just shy of the amount in a packet of
crisps—while a glass of red wine or port contains roughly 90 kcal. These
liquid calories—which include sugars or fats to sweeten the sip—add
up. It would make sense, then, if regular drinkers have been found to weigh more
than teetotallers.

Except they haven’t.

True, the beer belly exists, but it’s wrongly named. It’s just fat carried
where men carry it best—around the mid-section. And true, one study has
found that people who gulp down more than six non-wine (in this study, mostly
beer) alcoholic drinks per week have significantly higher waist-to-hip ratios
than people sipping wine with the same volume of alcohol, a finding that is
usually put down to lifestyle differences between beer and wine drinkers. But
when you compare drinkers with non-drinkers, the vast majority of
epidemiological studies show that moderate drinkers weigh the same—or even
less—than those who abstain.

In the most widely cited study, published in 1991, Harvard University
epidemiologist Graham Colditz and his colleagues scrutinised alcohol intake and
weight change in 138 000 men and women. The data had been collected by
questionnaire since 1980 as part of two ongoing studies—the Nurses 91ɫƬ
Study and the 91ɫƬ Professionals Follow-up Study—designed to find out
how lifestyle affects health in the long-term. It showed that men who drank
moderate amounts of wine or beer gained no more weight over the years than men
who did not. Women who similarly indulged actually appeared to suffer less
middle-aged spread, with a body mass index about 15 per cent lower than
non-drinkers. Similarly, a 1993 British health survey found that moderate female
drinkers were about half as likely to be obese as non-drinkers. Several
short-term diet studies have echoed these findings: people who temporarily added
alcohol to their diets usually lost pounds.

“It comes as a shock, doesn’t it, to see that people who drink more don’t
weigh more?” marvels John Crouse, a medical researcher at Wake Forest University
in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, and author of one alcohol study. “Some people
would say that’s a great stroke of luck.” Luck it might be, but finding a good
explanation for what has come to be known as the alcohol paradox has had
researchers stumped for decades.

One wistful theory was that the calories in alcohol just didn’t count. After
all, several studies show that people who drink secrete less insulin, a hormone
that promotes the synthesis and storage of fat. But a 1996 study put paid to the
idea that alcohol calories are somehow different to regular calories.

For four months, 48 volunteers consumed the same number of calories each day,
with one half receiving five per cent as ethanol in a grape-flavoured drink, and
the other half receiving the same proportion as a carbohydrate powder dissolved
in the same drink.

Each volunteer spent two months on the alcohol diet and another two on the
carbohydrate diet. At the end of these periods, each person spent 24 hours
working, eating, sleeping and just hanging out in a whole-body
calorimeter—a room rigged with equipment to monitor everything that goes
into a person (food, liquids, air) and everything that comes out (faeces, urine
and respiratory gases). On average, the same number of calories were burnt by
each person, and the same number were stored as fat, regardless of whether they
had consumed alcohol, says research physiologist William Rumpler of the US
Department of Agriculture in Beltsville, Maryland, who ran the study. His
disappointing conclusion: a calorie is just a calorie, even when it’s lolling
inside a good Cabernet.

Rumpler’s studies did confirm that the body deals with alcohol unusually
quickly. That makes sense since alcohol is treated by the body as a poison, and
liver enzymes immediately convert it into the more benign acetate. But this
really just amounts to normal metabolism on fast-forward, Rumpler says, and it
doesn’t magic away calories.

Another hypothesis for why alcohol may not wreck your waistline is that
drinkers cut back on their food—consciously or subconsciously—in an
attempt to compensate for the liquid calories. “The whole mystery may come down
to the fact that people in epidemiology studies don’t report their alcohol and
food intake accurately,” says William Lands, a senior adviser at the National
Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism near Washington, DC. Notwithstanding
the current epidemic of Western obesity, humans and other animals are remarkably
adept at regulating their calorie intake. “If you eat more and more mashed
potatoes, you eat less and less of other foods,” says Lands. “What happens when
you drink more and more alcohol? We really don’t know.”

Rumpler, for one, hopes to find out. His lab plans to launch a study in
February that will provide people with all their food for four months. Halfway
into the study, the researchers will add alcohol to the participants’
diets—and then check to see if they cut back on food, and if so which
foods and how much. “Hopefully, we can solve this paradox once and for all,”
Rumpler says.

If researchers do discover that people atone for alcohol calories by eating
less, it probably won’t be happening during the actual headiness of
intoxication. That lowers inhibitions—including any resolve to nibble
sparingly, according to a study published in February in The American Journal of
Clinical Nutrition. In that study, biologists Margriet Westerterp-Plantenga and
Christianne Verwegen of Maastricht University in the Netherlands served 52
people alcohol (wine or beer), fruit juice or water 30 minutes before lunch once
a week for five weeks. The diners were then given a scientific salad
lunch—a plate piled with precise amounts of cold pasta, beans, ham and
other foods. A weighing scale resting under the plate—and a hidden
observer counting every bite chewed—determined how much of the lunch each
volunteer consumed. Those who knocked back alcohol beforehand ate more food, ate
more quickly, and took longer over lunch than their peers.

Which leaves at least one more plausible explanation for why drinkers tend to
be slimmer than non-drinkers: perhaps they are just more svelte to begin with.
Overweight women—those at least 4.5 kilograms heavier than the recommended
weight—may pile on the pounds as a result of drinking, while thin women
don’t, according to a 1995 study by nutrition researcher Beverly Clevidence at
the US Department of Agriculture. On the surface, that finding seems to
contradict the diet studies which mostly suggest that temporarily downing
alcohol makes you lose weight. But dig deeper, and all becomes clear. Although
the earlier studies found that on average people lose weight when they drink,
the few obese volunteers in the studies actually gained weight.

Why might heavier drinkers be at a disadvantage? One idea is that alcohol
affects insulin levels differently in thin and obese people. On average, people
who drink alcohol secrete less insulin. But at least one study has found no such
effect in obese women, says physiologist Loren Cordain of Colorado State
University in Fort Collins. Researchers don’t know why.

In fact, Cordain adds, until scientists understand far more about alcohol
metabolism, you might as well enjoy whatever beer you prefer—in
moderation. “Short of overdoing it, you can drink anything you please, even if
it’s light beer,” he says.

Whether your brew will attract a Bud Light girl is another thing
altogether.

  • Let us have wine and women, mirth and laughter, Sermons and soda-water the
    day after Lord Byron (1788-1824)
  • Drunkenness is temporary suicide: the happiness that it brings is merely
    negative, a momentary cessation of unhappiness Bertrand Russell (1872-1970)
  • I always keep a bottle of stimulant handy in case I see a snake—which I
    also keep handy W. C. Fields (1880-1946)
  • Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy
    Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790)
  • When I read about the evils of drinking, I gave up reading
    Henny Youngman (1906-1998) British-born American comedian
  • Claret is the liquor for boys; port for men; but he who aspires to be a hero
    must drink brandy Samuel Johnson (1709-1784)
  • It takes one drink to get me drunk, but I can’t remember if it’s the
    thirteenth or the fourteenth George Burns (1896-1996)
  • An alcoholic is someone you don’t like who drinks as much as you do
    Dylan Thomas (1914-1953)

  • Further reading:
    Alcohol, calories, and appetite by William E. M. Lands,
    Vitamins and Hormones, vol 54, p 31 (1998)
  • Ethanol and lipid metabolism by Lawrence Feinman and Charles S. Lieber,
    American Journal of Clinical Nutrition, vol 70, page 791 (1999)

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