First-born fatties are second best

As the youngest of five sisters, it ill-behoves me to repeat the new research claiming that first-born girls are more likely to be obese, but hey, relentless point-scoring is a genetic affliction too, right?

A partnership of academics from New Zealand and Sweden (I don’t want to stereotype, but how beautiful must their results be?) has concluded that birth order determines weight.

After examining data from pairs of sisters, they concluded that first-born women are 29 per cent more likely to be overweight, and 40 per cent more likely to be obese then second-born sisters.

Previous research shows it’s the same for brothers. The thinking is that because families are decreasing in size, a higher proportion of women are firstborn and, hence, overweight.

So what, other than birth order, makes first-borns fatter?

Ah. Their research didn’t cover the useful bit. Perhaps a team of Russian supermodels and Italian F1 drivers can get to work on that one.

In the meantime, I can’t say my own experience bears this out. The only main difference between my eldest sister and me is height – we decreased in size as the family grew, which I attribute to my mother chainsmoking through pregnancy.

Hers was a combination of blissful ignorance and a determination to save up enough cigarette tokens for a Kensitas kettle. To celebrate the arrival of the underweight baby with a nice cup of tea.

My suspicion is that because first-borns are older, and people tend to put on weight with age, it’s bleeding obvious they will be heavier at any given point.

But wherever this data crunch may lead, what we urgently need is action on obesity, not analysis.

In recent days, we’ve been told to drink a pint of water before meals as it reduces appetite and to do more housework to burn calories.

Talking of which, we are no longer supposed to count them. In the British Medical Journal, cardiologists say we need to focus on the nutritional content of the food rather than calories.

And if you have a first-born on the chubby side, you’ll soon be able to dial 999 for emergency assistance. I paraphrase, but it genuinely has been mooted that firefighters should use their downtime between chip-pan conflagrations to spearhead the battle against childhood obesity.

My intention is not to fat-shame anyone. I’ve been miserably hefty at various points in my life, and shaming would have prompted me to reach for an Unhappy Meal faster than you could say: “Have you considered a delicious Mediterranean diet?”

Jamie Oliver has admitted his school dinners revolution never took off because healthy eating is seen as a “posh and middle-class concern”, and yet obesity is a society-wide problem.

Fortunately, aspiration is a great motivator. Kids can effortlessly calibrate the kudos attached to the latest smartphone, the newest trainers, the coolest clothes label.

Perhaps, the way to convert our kids to healthy eating is to get the message across that junk food, like analogue mobiles and fake Havaianas, is naff, a false economy and anathema to actual and social mobility.

Couldn’t we get pop stars and professional athletes to take selfies with their favourite fruit or vegetable? Let’s call it a ‘‘healfie’’. David Beckham, your country needs you. Taylor Swift, what a genuinely sisterly gesture that would be. Lewis Hamilton, won’t you be first? You usually are.

Once Britain’s children learn that fast food creates slowcoaches, the race towards improved health might finally leave the starting blocks.