It is well known that maintaining weight is an energy equation: calories in, calories out. The formula is a simple one of sums and differences--add up energy ingested, subtract energy burned. A total of 3,500 extra calories signifies one gained pound; conversely, a deficit of 3,500 indicates the loss of a pound. A straightforward computation indeed.
However, eating is rarely so simple, because calories are far from the only factor of consideration. Vitamins, minerals, phytonutrients, fiber, macronutrients: in other words, the quality of the food. Consider the example of Weight Watchers® brand Golden Sponge Cake:
The pleasantly slim, oblong box touts a reassuring Weight Watchers® logo. It contains six individually wrapped pastries that bear a remarkable resemblance to Hostess Cakes brand Twinkies®. They are fluffy and golden, plump with creamy white filling--but with only 80 calories and 3 grams of fat apiece, reasonably healthy and perfectly incorporable into a nutritious diet, right?
Perhaps not. Past the Golden Sponge Cake's rather uncatchy moniker, 1 Point Badge, and charming exterior, there is nearly nothing comforting about its contents. And it has many, many contents, 44 precisely--the first of which is sugar. If that were not suspicious enough, consider the others: enriched flour, stripped of any nutrients it once posessed and fortified with non-absorbable ones. Monocalcium phosphate: what is that? A common component of agricultural fertilizers. Er... what is it doing in my snack? Propylene glycol: used in deodorants, antifreeze, massage oils. Artificial flavor: unlike in people and detective novels, I do not appreciate mystery in my food.
In Steve Ettlinger's delightfully probing book Twinkie, Deconstructed, the soft, buttery nature of the Twinkie is scrutinized carefully. Turns out that the 'butter' is manufactured from natural gas; the filling is shiny and voluminous thanks to cellulose gum. Horrifying indeed, but not much worse than the Golden Sponge Cake, despite its claims of health and guiltfree snacking. Both contain ingredients that, when isolated, would never be considered edible. Baking them into pastries should not alter that fact.
Which results in a basic rule of thumb: if a food (or sub-food) needs to extol its own virtues by way of bright assertions of health, it doesn't really deserve them. No manufacturer would waste money promoting a product that is truly, irrevocably healthy--think fresh fruits and vegetables. Parsnips are not labeled "low calorie," nor are pumpkins stamped with the words "high fiber."
Remember that products are marketed so that you will buy them. So buy real food, read the labels, and caveat emptor.
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