Three years ago, the Atkins name was on everyone's lips. Science seemed to support the contention that a high-protein, low-carb diet produced safe, effective weight loss. And the public was wild for it. According to Reuters, at its peak, some nine percent of American adults claimed to be on an Atkins-type diet. Low-carb foods packed the supermarket aisles, steakhouse banquets were lined with beautiful people, and even the typically staid New York Times printed an article so giddily enthusiastic, it could have passed for an infomercial.

Recently, Atkins filed for Chapter 11 due, in no small measure, to diminished interest in its namesake diet. What happened? Did science change? Did horrible side effects from the diet emerge? Was ‑ perish the thought ‑ the New York Times wrong? No. What killed the Atkins diet was the same phenomenon that brought it to prominence: fashion.

Diets, like clothes, have "in" periods and "out" periods. Atkins itself made its debut in the '70s only to be supplanted by low-fat plans like Dr. Dean Ornish's Eat More, Weigh Less. Right now, the South Beach program seems to be going strong, but you can almost feel the trend meter ticking down. The next diet sensation is just around the corner and only time will reveal it to us.

It doesn't surprise me that diets come and go like fashion. There are endless ways to spin the advice "eat less, burn more" into actionable plans with appealing hooks. What does surprise me is that we unfailingly fall for each new diet as a revolutionary approach that will work where all its predecessors have failed. And with each new self-deception, we lose something more than time and hard-earned cash. We lose our way.