The Transformation of The Biggest Loser

Despite my last post pivoting around a documentary viewed on the Smithsonian Channel, we're not big on watching television. It's not a matter of some high-minded Kill Your Television mindset. Quite the contrary. We have five boob tubes scattered about the house, including the ginormous plasma thing, plus the small ancient example of mid-20th Century technology in Scott's workshop. It seems, though, that we get busy and don't really think about tuning in on any regular basis. When Nielsen contacted us to do one of their weekly reports, we tried to tell the person who called that we weren't very good candidates; but she said that was fine, just so we reported whatever we watched. Okay. At the end of the week, our tally showed that I had watched one 30-minute segment of The Daily Show; and Scott had briefly tuned in to This Old House. One week. Six TVs. Less than one collective hour of viewing. How can we even call ourselves Americans?

That was before I became a The Biggest Loser junkie. I don't know how I happened to wander into the Season 6 finale, but I was captivated. Once Season 7 started, I made sure every episode was recorded so I wouldn't miss anything. But that's mostly unnecessary because typically at 7-9 pm every Tuesday, I am tuned in, turned on, torqued up. There is no way I could sit on the sofa and watch these people sweat, swear, and swelter. While I watch their almost super-human efforts, I run on the treadmill, do bike intervals on the trainer, and/or do resistance training. I've come to think of them as my homies, and they truly are inspiring.

What is it about this show that has me in its grip? Sure, there's this 10-20 pounds that I have struggled with for over four decades, five marathons, several triathlons, and too many diets to count—without any lasting success, I might add. But I think the greatest appeal of TBL is the age-old theme of transformation. Why do we watch Ebeneezer Scrooge every Christmas and never fail to shed a tear at the predictable ending? How can we watch Rocky for the 18th time and still cheer as loudly as the first time we saw it on the big screen? Why do we love X-Men? Transformation. We all delight in it. We all long for it.

TBL offers me 18 weeks over which I can watch the gradual uncocooning of human butterflies right in my living room—and via treadmill, bike trainer, and free weights, I can even participate. Shape shifters. Literally. Interwoven with every pound lost, the contestants also change the shapes of their characters, their self-beliefs, and their emotional landscapes. And in watching the unfoldment of each personal and very public pilgrimage, I share a little of that transformation.

Will they be able to sustain it? Will I? Stay tuned.