It's normal to be fat in McAllen, so people don't lose it
In McAllen, Texas — a city of 150,000 at the southern edge of America — the built environment itself has become a kind of slow verdict against human health, producing three consecutive years as the nation's most obese city. Half its residents are obese, shaped not merely by personal choice but by a landscape without sidewalks, flooded with cheap calories, and governed by the quiet tyranny of poverty and cultural collision. What unfolds here is less a story of individual failure than a portrait of a place engineered, piece by piece, to make wellness nearly impossible — and a warning to any society that mistakes convenience for progress.
- Half of McAllen's population is obese and residents can consume up to 10,000 calories a day, making the city a living laboratory for everything that can go wrong when environment, economics, and appetite converge.
- The city offers no sidewalks, no bike lanes, 500 fast food outlets, and a pricing structure where a litre of soda costs less than a small bottle of water — the infrastructure quietly punishes any attempt at healthy living.
- Poverty, low health literacy, food stamp dependency, and the collision of Mexican food culture with Texan supersizing have created what one nurse calls a 'domino effect' — addiction replacing addiction, sugar filling the void left by other substances.
- Bed-bound residents exceeding 400 pounds, teenagers who say losing weight feels impossible here, and a hospital cardiac unit overwhelmed by diabetes and hypertension mark where this trajectory is currently landing.
- Weight-loss medications like Ozempic are surging nationally, but in a city where 20% live in poverty, they remain out of reach — leaving systemic redesign of food pricing, urban planning, and public health education as the only viable paths forward.
Rudy Mendiola is forty-eight, drives for Uber, and weighs twenty-eight stone. After a single meal exceeding five thousand calories, he wipes his mouth and calls it what it is: the danger zone. He lives in McAllen, Texas — America's fattest city for three consecutive years running — where half the population is obese and another third is overweight. Two knee surgeries, chronic arthritis, and recurring kidney stones have followed him through a life shaped as much by his city as by his choices.
McAllen's infrastructure reads like an accidental manifesto against movement. There are no pavements along its fifty-five-mile-per-hour roads, no bike lanes, and barely any gyms. Everything demands a car. Within a minute of arrival, a visitor passes ten neon signs advertising meals for one to six dollars. Five hundred fast food restaurants serve a population of 150,000 — one outlet for every three hundred people. A litre of Diet Coke costs a dollar. A small bottle of water costs three. Coca-Cola runs a major distribution centre on the edge of town because local demand is extraordinary.
At a local Walmart, Rose, thirty-one, and her husband Luis, twenty-six, offer a blunt warning to anyone thinking of moving here: you will get fat. Luis traces the crisis to a cultural collision — Mexican traditions built around communal food meeting a Texan belief that everything should be larger. During the pandemic, Luis gained one hundred eighty pounds. He has since lost some of that weight, but describes the family as desperate. Their children's quickest meal is a basket of fries and chicken tenders from the store entrance.
Dietitian Brandon Harper says residents can easily exceed ten thousand calories a day eating all three meals from restaurants. A standard quesadilla becomes, in McAllen, a monument of excess — double tortillas, mountains of cheese, extra protein, avocado, chips. The Black Bear Diner's Volcano breakfast alone runs to 1,710 calories. Whataburger's triple cheeseburger combo exceeds a woman's full daily recommended intake. Six Whataburger locations operate within a small radius because the queues once grew too long for fewer branches to handle.
Nurse Daniela Delgardo works the cardiac unit at the regional hospital and sees the endpoint of all this daily — hypertension, diabetes, and patients bed-bound at over four hundred pounds. One local man, five feet eight inches tall and weighing forty-three stone, cannot fit through his own door. He replaced a drug addiction with food, gaining two hundred pounds in nine months. His mind told him he was still hungry long after his body was full.
More than forty percent of American adults are obese. Medications like Ozempic are now taken by twelve percent of adults nationally, but in McAllen — where one in five residents lives in poverty — they are simply unaffordable. Many residents feel that being large is simply normal here, removing even the social pressure that might otherwise prompt change. In England, where nearly thirty percent of adults are obese and two-thirds are overweight or obese, McAllen offers not just a cautionary tale but a possible preview — a city-sized demonstration of what happens when food pricing, urban design, and public health are left to drift.
Rudy Mendiola is forty-eight years old, drives for Uber, and weighs twenty-eight stone. After finishing a meal that contains five thousand calories—more than double what most people should eat in a day—he wipes his mouth and calls it what it is: the danger zone. He lives in McAllen, Texas, a city of one hundred fifty thousand people in the southern tip of the state that has earned, over three consecutive years, the grim distinction of being America's fattest city. Half the population is obese. Another third is overweight. Walking through McAllen feels like stepping into a place where the normal rules of human proportion have been suspended.
The infrastructure itself seems designed to make people heavier. There are no sidewalks along the fifty-five-mile-per-hour roads. No bike lanes. Only a handful of gyms. Everything requires a car, or a motorized scooter—the kind you can rent through an app in shopping malls and supermarkets. Within one minute of driving into town, a visitor encounters ten giant neon signs advertising five-dollar pizzas, six-dollar burger combos, four-dollar tacos. There are five hundred fast food restaurants in McAllen. That is one restaurant for every three hundred people. At the all-you-can-eat Chinese buffets, the addiction is so visible that management has posted warnings telling customers to step away from the food counters before sitting down to eat. A single liter bottle of Diet Coke costs a dollar. A five-hundred-milliliter bottle of water costs three dollars. At the gas station, a one-point-five-liter cup of soda sells for a dollar. Coca-Cola operates a massive distribution center on the edge of town because local demand is so high.
Rudy explains his own consumption with the clarity of someone who has thought about it. He drives for hours and cannot take long breaks, so he grabs fast food—Whataburger, Chinese takeout, chicken strips. Sometimes he eats only one meal a day, but that meal exceeds five thousand calories. Coffees and drinks add more. He has had two knee surgeries because his weight places three times the normal stress on his joints. He has arthritis. He has chronic kidney stones. He knows he eats more than he should and eats the wrong foods. He also knows that in McAllen, being overweight is so common that no one judges. People do not lose weight because they do not feel the social pressure to lose it.
At a local Walmart that sells XXXXXL clothing, a woman named Rose, thirty-one years old, weighs more than twenty-five stone. Her husband Luis, twenty-six, weighs twenty-six stone. They have a stark warning for anyone considering moving to McAllen: you will get fat here. Luis is of Mexican origin and explains how two cultures have collided in this place. Mexican culture, he says, is centered on food. Texan culture believes everything should be bigger. The portion sizes have become enormous, even in supermarkets. A three-liter bottle of Diet Coke is normal. It is cheaper to buy takeout than to cook at home. When the family needs to feed their three children quickly, the fastest option is a basket of fries and chicken tenders sold at the front of the store. Luis and Rose's favorite snack is chicharron—fried pork belly—with a Mexican cola made from cane sugar. They have been trying hard to lose weight. Before the pandemic, Luis weighed two hundred ten pounds. During lockdown, he gained one hundred eighty pounds. He is now down to three hundred sixty pounds but describes the family as desperate to get healthy.
A woman named Laura Landeros, sixty-one, uses a mobility scooter to navigate the supermarket because of her weight. She tells the reporter that snacking is a big thing in McAllen. If you do not have snacks, you are boring. Her favorites are pork cracklings and Doritos with a guacamole cream sauce. She is a hardcore Coca-Cola fan, though her favorite is Dr Pepper cherry flavor. In front of her in the checkout line, another customer buys twenty-four cans of cola, two bags of pork scratchings, a bag of Oreo cookies, cookie dough biscuits, and cheese crackers. There is not a vegetable in sight. A dietitian named Brandon Harper, who runs a nutrition practice in town, says residents can easily consume more than ten thousand calories a day and eat all three meals from restaurants. A quesadilla that would normally consist of two tortillas with chicken and cheese becomes, in McAllen, two massive tortillas with mountains of cheese, excess protein, added avocado, and tortilla chips. Everyone here lives a sedentary life.
The Black Bear diner serves a breakfast called The Volcano that contains seventeen hundred ten calories: three sweet cream pancakes, two sausages, two slices of thick-cut bacon, and maple syrup. A reporter who tried three bites felt so sick from the sugar overload that she spent the rest of the day unable to eat, bent over outside the restaurant. Whataburger, the Texan fast food chain with the distinctive orange W logo, is a beacon for locals. Its triple cheeseburger combo meal contains twenty-two hundred twenty calories—more than a woman's recommended daily intake. The town has six Whataburger locations in a tiny radius because the queues were so large that more branches became necessary. One man in line said that loads of people eat fast food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Why not? It is tasty and cheap.
Nurse Daniela Delgardo works on the cardiac unit at the regional hospital. She sees high blood pressure and diabetes constantly. There are bed-bound people in McAllen who weigh more than four hundred pounds. The access to fast food, which is high in sodium and artificial ingredients, is relentless. Many residents receive government food stamps because they live on low incomes and have low education levels, so they do not know how to read ingredient labels or understand what calories mean. They become hooked on sugar and additives. It is a domino effect, she says, and there is a clear link between poverty and obesity. One local man, five feet eight inches tall, weighs at least forty-three stone and lives entirely in his bed because of his extreme weight. He used to struggle with substance abuse. After quitting drugs, he replaced that addiction with food. He would eat three McChicken burgers, a Big Mac combo, cookies, a twenty-piece nugget order with sauce, large fries, and then three more meals. He would feel full but his mind would tell him he was still hungry. He gained two hundred pounds in nine months. Now he cannot fit through his door.
More than forty percent of American adults are obese. Nearly three in four are overweight or obese. The U.S. government is focusing on improving access to healthy food, increasing taxes on sugary drinks, and providing FDA-approved medications. Drugs like Ozempic and Mounjaro have surged in popularity across America, with twelve percent of adults now taking them. But in McAllen, these medications are not considered a solution. More than twenty percent of residents live in poverty. One in four households receives benefits. People cannot afford the drugs. And many simply feel that being fat is normal here. Two teenage girls, Clarissa Garcia and Evely Soto, say they have tried to lose weight but it is harder in McAllen than anywhere else. Almost thirty percent of adults in England are living with obesity. Sixty-six percent are classified as overweight or obese. McAllen is a chilling preview of what Britain's obesity crisis could become.
Notable Quotes
This is the danger zone— Rudy Mendiola, 48-year-old Uber driver in McAllen
The food here has become almost a drug— Bella Lopez, 18-year-old resident
We have bed-bound people here who are over 400 pounds. It's a domino effect—people get hooked on sugar and additives— Nurse Daniela Delgardo, cardiac unit
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does McAllen specifically have this problem? Is it just that there's more fast food there than anywhere else?
It's not just the restaurants. It's that the entire city is built around driving, not walking. There are no sidewalks. Everything is a drive-thru. And the economics are brutal—a dollar gets you a liter of soda but three dollars for a bottle of water. When you're poor, which a lot of people here are, that math is impossible to ignore.
But people in other poor cities don't all become obese at the same rate. What's different about McAllen?
The culture piece matters enormously. You have Mexican immigrant traditions where food is central to family and community, meeting Texan culture where bigger is always better. A quesadilla becomes supersized. Portion sizes explode. And there's no social friction—being overweight is so normal that people don't feel pressure to change.
The nurse mentioned a "domino effect" with food stamps and low health literacy. Can you explain that?
People on tight budgets buy what's cheapest and most filling. Fast food is cheaper than cooking at home. But it's loaded with sugar and additives that create actual cravings. Once you're hooked on that, it's hard to break free. And if you don't understand nutrition labels, you don't realize you're eating five thousand calories in a single meal.
One man in the story replaced drug addiction with food addiction. Is that a common pattern there?
It seems to be. Food is legal, it's everywhere, it's cheap, and it triggers the same reward pathways in the brain. For someone who's struggled with substance abuse, it can feel like a safer substitute. But it's just trading one addiction for another.
Why aren't weight-loss drugs like Ozempic being used more widely there?
Cost is part of it—poverty is real in McAllen. But there's also a cultural acceptance of obesity. If everyone around you is overweight, if it's the norm, why would you spend money on medication to change? The drugs work, but they only work if people believe change is possible or necessary.
What does this mean for Britain?
Britain's obesity rates are already at thirty percent of adults. McAllen shows what happens when you combine cheap junk food, poor urban design, poverty, and cultural acceptance of weight gain. It's not inevitable, but without deliberate intervention—on food pricing, on how cities are built, on medication access—Britain could end up in the same place.