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Waiting for weightloss
Posted by GregOlsen
on
7:52 AM
As I turned on the TV this morning, Frosted Flakes already in the bowl and up to the counter, I prepared myself for some light entertainment while I ate breakfast. But the entertainment was not light. It was heavy. I first saw a bunch of skinny people telling me how much weight they had lost on Nutri-System. In the background were pictures of larger, or slightly-larger, versions of their former selves. The reduced advocates were telling me how great their lives had become now that they had lost 50, 80, or even 100 pounds. My thoughts turned to my own life, how I wish I didn’t have to buy my clothes off the internet because most big & tall stores carry either big or tall. I thought about the added fees my insurance company was charging me because my obesity makes me a higher risk than the guy who receives excellent marks on the BMI. I thought about how much I hate my body and how much I want to be like those people on the commercial. Suddenly, my Frosted Flakes didn’t taste as good anymore.
Downtrodden and unsure about my reason for living, I put my empty bowl into the sink and retired to the couch for a little more TV before getting in the shower. As soon as my fat butt hit the cushion, some guy named Jillian came on, telling me that I had no excuse to be out of shape. Apparently, this scary-looking dude has a website where I can get work-out plans and dietary advice to help me get into the best shape of my life, so I decided to check it out. Wow, was I surprised. First of all, I found out that Jillian is a woman, and second, that all of her weight-loss claims were adorned with the same asterisk associated with all other weight-loss schemes, warning “results not typical.” I also found that she wanted my credit card before she would show me the proper way to do a military press.
Apparently, according to the weight-loss institutions I see advertised on TV, the internet, in magazines, on billboards, and in the coupons I receive in the mail, I need their developed expertise and training to motivate me into becoming thinner. Even more apparent is that these get-thin gurus need my money to motivate them into sharing their knowledge, knowledge with atypical results. This realization left me feeling dejected, alone, and hopeless to change my problems with my weight. Weight Watchers, Nutri-System, and HydroxyCut were more interested in my wallet than they were in my reasons for self-improvement. Jenny Craig wouldn’t even return my phone calls. These institutions, which care so much about my health and appearance, care very little for my feelings.
Companies like these exploit one of our deepest emotions: shame. Look at the faces on the “before” pictures of any of these companies’ “success stories” and you will see candid shots of unposed, unglamorous people. However, in the “after” pictures, the dieter has changed her hair color, upgraded his wardrobe, and turned his or her body so as to only allow a certain angle of the smaller gut to be shown. These newly-reduced people are always smiling and happy. From viewing these ads, I begin to make the correlation between happiness and weight loss. The ad has done its job. But, the ad neglects to tell me that I will still need to exercise and eat right in addition to partaking of its product (Upon further review, the ad does mention the need for diet and exercise in small writing, but ignores to tell me that diet and exercise is a weight-loss solution in itself).
Furthermore, are these ads doing a service to the obese population by exposing the health risks associated with obesity? No. Health risks are rarely discussed because the typical weight loss is too slight to eliminate diabetes or heart disease. The only function these products serve is to make the consumer feel bad and make the company money. Well, I already feel bad. I feel bad when my stomach hits the table every time I sit at a booth in a restaurant. I feel bad when I read stories about overweight celebrities who get yanked from a plane because their size produces a risk to the other passengers. I feel bad about my weight all the time, so I don’t need to pay these companies to help me in that department. These commercials do nothing more than eliminate the exposure of wonderful exercise products such as the ab-lounge, the thigh master, or the bow-flex (product names in lower case letter to enhance the sarcasm). Perhaps, one day, people can start feeling good about themselves again. Luckily, I just saw a commercial for pristiq to lift me out of my current funk over my weight.
--Greg
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Downtrodden and unsure about my reason for living, I put my empty bowl into the sink and retired to the couch for a little more TV before getting in the shower. As soon as my fat butt hit the cushion, some guy named Jillian came on, telling me that I had no excuse to be out of shape. Apparently, this scary-looking dude has a website where I can get work-out plans and dietary advice to help me get into the best shape of my life, so I decided to check it out. Wow, was I surprised. First of all, I found out that Jillian is a woman, and second, that all of her weight-loss claims were adorned with the same asterisk associated with all other weight-loss schemes, warning “results not typical.” I also found that she wanted my credit card before she would show me the proper way to do a military press.
Apparently, according to the weight-loss institutions I see advertised on TV, the internet, in magazines, on billboards, and in the coupons I receive in the mail, I need their developed expertise and training to motivate me into becoming thinner. Even more apparent is that these get-thin gurus need my money to motivate them into sharing their knowledge, knowledge with atypical results. This realization left me feeling dejected, alone, and hopeless to change my problems with my weight. Weight Watchers, Nutri-System, and HydroxyCut were more interested in my wallet than they were in my reasons for self-improvement. Jenny Craig wouldn’t even return my phone calls. These institutions, which care so much about my health and appearance, care very little for my feelings.
Companies like these exploit one of our deepest emotions: shame. Look at the faces on the “before” pictures of any of these companies’ “success stories” and you will see candid shots of unposed, unglamorous people. However, in the “after” pictures, the dieter has changed her hair color, upgraded his wardrobe, and turned his or her body so as to only allow a certain angle of the smaller gut to be shown. These newly-reduced people are always smiling and happy. From viewing these ads, I begin to make the correlation between happiness and weight loss. The ad has done its job. But, the ad neglects to tell me that I will still need to exercise and eat right in addition to partaking of its product (Upon further review, the ad does mention the need for diet and exercise in small writing, but ignores to tell me that diet and exercise is a weight-loss solution in itself).
Furthermore, are these ads doing a service to the obese population by exposing the health risks associated with obesity? No. Health risks are rarely discussed because the typical weight loss is too slight to eliminate diabetes or heart disease. The only function these products serve is to make the consumer feel bad and make the company money. Well, I already feel bad. I feel bad when my stomach hits the table every time I sit at a booth in a restaurant. I feel bad when I read stories about overweight celebrities who get yanked from a plane because their size produces a risk to the other passengers. I feel bad about my weight all the time, so I don’t need to pay these companies to help me in that department. These commercials do nothing more than eliminate the exposure of wonderful exercise products such as the ab-lounge, the thigh master, or the bow-flex (product names in lower case letter to enhance the sarcasm). Perhaps, one day, people can start feeling good about themselves again. Luckily, I just saw a commercial for pristiq to lift me out of my current funk over my weight.
--Greg
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