I started watching last season when Dan was working a billion hours and there was nothing on TV Tuesday nights and heaven forbid I do anything productive after 8 o’clock at night. I was inspired by the alleged “transformations” of the “contestants.” I even softened my stone-cold veneer for a few moments and cried once or twice…
every episode… for the whole season.
Now I’m somewhat fluffy myself and after watching several episodes while chowing down on my favorite snack foods, the propaganda started working on me. I thought, “I could do that [snarf, snarf, crunch crunch gobble gobble]. They’re so inspir[munch munch]ing! If she could lose that much weight, I could totally [swallow gulp gulp] shed the pounds I have to lose and tone up like a swimsuit model.”
Am I the only one who can’t stop eating while they watch that show?
So I bought the Biggest Loser Fitness Plan book, which was approximately as uncomfortable as purchasing my first box of tampons. You know if someone sees you buying feminine hygiene products they might know you’re a… a… a girl and if you buy a BIGGEST LOSER book, they might suspect you of being overweight because I’m sure they couldn’t tell by the pinchable pudge of your too-loveable-for-a-person-over-the-age-of-2 cheeks.
After doing the workout one time yesterday, I’ve finally figured out their master plot.
It’s true that the producers want to decrease the number of overweight Americans. They plan to accomplish this by convincing us to try the diet and exercise routines, effectually picking us off one by one like puffer fish in a barrel when we can no longer raise our arms or effectively move our legs.
It seems fairly obvious to me at this point that the so called “contestants” are really just smoking hot athlete/models in remarkable stage makeup for a show that is to weight loss what the WWF is to real wrestling. No real pinchable overweight person can live through these workouts.