Not human females–we’ll leave that for another post.

The other night I was reminded of some thoughts I had while reading Jared Diamond’s Why Is Sex Fun?. In the book, Diamond talks about various theories about why human males’ penises are proportionally so much larger than other animals’ penises. Even compared to other primates, men have huge wankers–both gorillas and orangutans have an average erect penis length of 1.5 inches, while men sport 5 inches of erect penis, on average. This is a much greater length than is functionally necessary for getting the sperm where it needs to go, especially given that men are much smaller than gorillas and orangutans.

Theories about penis length in human males are usually based on function or adornment. The functional theories Diamond covers in his book have been discredited. Examples include the theory that human penises need to be longer because of all the weird positions in which we have sex (orangutans with their 1.5 inch members have sex in weirder positions than we do, and do it while hanging from trees), and the theory that men need longer penises because humans have sex for longer periods of time (again, orangutans out-fuck us, averaging 15 minutes per session, compared to humans’ 4 minutes). Diamond seems more intrigued by theories about adornment. He talks about the huge phallocarps worn by New Guinea highlanders, which are basically huge (up to two feet long!) sheaths, painted and decorated, that fit over the penis and extend from the body at various jaunty angles. He also talks about how the fact that men’s penises, being considerably larger than they need to be to do the job, are basically flaunting the fact that the men sporting them are already so smart and strong that they don’t need the extra biosynthetic energy used up in penis-creation for silly things like, say, making extra brain or muscle mass. Diamond also covers the theory that the penis in human males might be used as adornment not only for the purpose of attracting human females, but also establishing dominance over human males. But women actually don’t find penises terribly attractive–I’ve never met a woman who was half as fascinated by penises as men are. Diamond concludes by saying that the issue is as of yet unresolved.

I have a theory about why men’s penises are so disproportionately large, an idea that Diamond doesn’t address in his book, and it’s a functional theory. So far as I know, humans are the first solely bipedal mammals, and thus the only mammals to have big, thick, meaty gluteal muscles. Might it be so simple that men’s penises have to be so long because women’s asses are so meaty? Certainly we have sex in more than one position, but in order to have sex in the default position favored by the majority of animals, human males have to get through a lot of flesh. Even when a woman is bent over in that position, her parts are not nearly as exposed as, say, a dog’s are–all the time. I’m not sure sex in that position would actually work for humans if the man’s penis were only 1.5 inches long. Might the conundrum of the long schlong in men actually be so simple?

(OK, I think I’ve managed to be pretty restrained here with regard to penis euphemisms in this entry. I might have come up with a new synonym every time I more properly should have used the word penis. I think I should be congratulated here.)

In writing about evolutionary biology, a subject which I know next to nothing about, I’m considering the post written by Chris on Mixing Memory about non-experts writing about science without first reading the relevant peer-reviewed literature, as opposed to just popular science books, which is what Diamond’s book is. I’m also considering Mark Liberman’s response on Language Log. My opinion? I’ll be damned if I’m going to avoid spouting off on a subject I know nothing about just so some overly-sensitive academic can avoid being offended by my lack of knowledge. It’s my blog, and you all know I’m not an expert on these things. If I can’t write about my opinions and thoughts on my own blog, what’s the point?

A recent exchange with an old friend has caused me to seriously question whether or not fat acceptance can ever succeed in changing the way people look at fat and dieting. My friend and I went to middle and high school together, and she’s sharp as a tack. Aside from our intelligence and our tendency to look at the world a little differently, one thing in we’ve always had in common is that we’re fat.

My friend lost a lot of weight in high school, but her weight has cycled up and down in the years since then. She was one of the people who took fen-phen and had her heart damaged by it. Those problems became severe during her pregnancy with her first child; she was warned that having another child could prove fatal for her. A birth control mix up resulted in a second pregnancy that miraculously turned out just fine. She’s at another peak of her weight cycle now and wants to lose weight–so her heart can heal so she can try for another baby.

Even though I’ve been fat since I was a little kid, I’ve never seriously dieted, so my weight hasn’t cycled at all. A few years ago I learned about fat acceptance and decided to give up on the idea of losing weight, and instead focus solely on affecting that which I actually might have a chance of controlling–my health. My weight has been pretty much stable since then (although it always goes up about 10 pounds on my visits to the US!). Since I heard about the concept, I’ve read extensively on the subject of fat acceptance. I’ve got a bookshelf that’s 80 cm wide packed with books on the subject. Not to mention all the on-line discussions I’ve participated in, blogs I read, and conventions I’ve attended. I am very well-versed in this subject. I’m also well-versed in critical thinking and a die-hard skeptic, so I look upon everything I learn on the subject with a very critical eye. The ideas the fat acceptance movement promotes are based on good science and have research baking them up. This is not quackery.
Why is it, then, that when I discuss these ideas with the uninitiated, they look at me as if I’m a Raëlian or something? I told my friend about fat acceptance. When she mentioned she’d begun going to Weight Watchers (again), I pointed her to this enlightening blog post by Paul Ernsberger. She mentioned that she’d lost weigh successfully many times before, so she knew she could lose the weight. She also mentioned that she knew the weight would come back unless she made her dietary changes permanent, but that it was important to her to lose weight, even temporarily, to allow her heart to heal so she could try for another baby. Given said heart troubles, I pointed her to the studies demonstrating that yo-yo dieting is actually very hard on the heart. Even though her personal experience reflects that dieting tends to result in rebound weight gain, and even though diet pills have severely weakened her heart, she told me that she thinks it’s “sort of a weird philosophy which flies in the face of everything I’ve ever learned about nutrition”.

And why should she think any differently? The media and doctors, not to mention damn near everyone on the face of the planet, is constantly talking about how unhealthy, not to mention immoral, it is to be fat, how important it is to lose weight, how losing weight will make people so much more healthy, and that permanent weight loss is an achievable goal. Just eat less and exercise more, we’re told. We’re constantly bombarded with these messages, but based on the reading I’ve done, based on research by institutions like the NIH, based on recommendations by the NEJM, these messages are simply not true!

So I have very little hope that fat acceptance advocates are ever going to be able to get their message across to people. I definitely don’t think this is possible using a top-down approach, e.g. tactics like demonstrating in parks or writing press releases. We just look like scientifically illiterate quacks–we’re made into laughingstocks. My hope for this movement has always lain in the power of personal evangelism. We talk to people about what we’ve learned, and they see how fat acceptance has bettered our lives. But this recent experience has really dashed my hopes for being able to convince people not to destroy their health by dieting.

Even though I haven’t ever been able to convince even one person not to diet, I know my evangelism has affected a few of my friends and family in positive ways. I guess I’m just frustrated because I’m worried for my friend. I’m worried she’s going to damage her heart even more, that she’s going to end up even fatter, that she’s going to die from trying to have another kid. I wish there were something I could do.