If you expected to read about mind-altering orgasms here, you might be a bit disappointed. This isn't that kind of blog. It would be if I was actually having mind-altering orgasms, or even just the ordinary everyday kind, but in the absence of George Clooney or any reasonable substitute, I'm taking my excitement where I can get it.
My newest passion is something I never, ever, expected: I am watching a television reality show! I know, I know. I swore I never would, but I was caught in a weak moment (in bed with a sinus infection) and I succumbed. Sue me.
The object of my desire is The Biggest Loser, currently airing season 2 on the Style Network. (Yes, I know I said the Style Network was the biggest waste of airspace on this planet and all the others--including Pluto, which I will always consider a planet--but I might have been a little bit wrong. This show and Clean House make it worth watching every now and then, but the rest of their schedule is pretty pathetic.)
What draws me to TBL is the overwhelming compassion and admiration I feel for the contestants. I can't imagine having the strength and courage to a) weigh myself, b) weigh myself in front of millions of people, c) appear on television in those skimpy workout clothes, d) exercise 3-4 hours a day, e) exercise for people's entertainment, f) discuss my inner feelings about my body image with a guy holding a video camera, and g) set myself up to fail in front of a national audience. Give me the faceless Internet! If I fail here, I hit the delete button.
The Grand Prize on TBL is $250,000. Worth dropping Little Debbie as my BFF, perhaps, but not if I have to get on stage in a sports bra and spandex bike shorts to compete. And I'm not so sure the money is what motivates the show's contestants, either. Maybe I'm imagining it, but it seems to me that they're far more interested in the opportunity to devote themselves to getting healthy(-ier) and the show is a way to jump start their weight loss efforts. Some of them have a sense of desperation about them, and I understand and identify with that. These are my people.
The basic premise of the show is that the contestants are sequestered on a "ranch" for a few months and organized in teams. Each week they face a new "temptation" and a new "physical challenge". One night they were offered a $2,300 prize if they ate a piece of cake (no one did!); another night, they could read letters from home if they ate a plate of their favorite food (no one did!) Physical challenges include running up mountains or moving a stack of gold bars equivalent to their weight from the bottom of a swimming pool to the side. Winners get extra prizes, sometimes tangibles, sometimes immunity from elimination. Oh yeah, that's the down side: each week, someone is voted out and sent home, which always makes me a little sad, but for the Style Network run, they've added a segment at the end that shows how the contestant does after he/she leaves the show. So far, almost all have continued their fitness quests and are enormously successful. (One guy didn't do so great.)
New episodes air every night at 7:00 (my time), and I tape them to watch after I've treadmilled. As crazy as it sounds, I sit there and watch, huffing and puffing after my 30 minute walk, and I'm one of them. I've avoided the day's temptations and endured my physical challenge. I listen to the lessons they learn and think about how to implement them in my own life. I laugh with them, and I cry with them. I feel their frustrations...and their unfailing hope. My people.
I have hope, too. Hope...and a plan.
Bye for now,
Cammy
