is weight loss tv kind of unintentionally radical?

Hear me out: I've been watching weight loss shows lately. Things with titles like 1,000 Lb Sisters. One of the shows is...1,000 Lb Sisters. The other is 1,000 Lb Best Friends. 

If you're not familiar with either of these shows, first, congratulations on having good taste and not consuming fat-shaming media. Also, here's my best attempt at a summary: The sisters in question are Amy and Tammy Slaton, who landed a TLC show that first aired in 2020 after their YouTube channel became a hit because they were genuinely funny and raunchy (lots of fart talk) and very fat. The premise of the TV show is that they will try to lose enough weight to qualify for bariatric surgery. 

I assume there are medical reasons that people have to lose weight before they can have a medical procedure that helps them lose weight—to demonstrate that they can make the lifestyle changes that will be necessary after surgery? Because operating on someone with extreme amounts of extra fat is riskier? Nevertheless, it seems fucked up, like asking someone to get rid of at least some of their cancer before starting chemo (I'm not saying fat = cancer, just that patients wouldn't be seeking treatment for something they could handle on their own). I also don't know whether any of the people on these shows would have had access to bariatric surgery if a TV show wasn't footing the bill.

Insert SNL sketch/Shouts & Murmurs piece about funding basic needs via reality shows.

Ashely (not Ashley; it took me two seasons to note that sneaky E) on Best Friends is the only person on these shows who definitely has a job, and she had bariatric surgery previously (she's seeking a tuneup after gaining the weight back). I think a couple of Amy and Tammy's other siblings have jobs, and at least one of them had surgery in the past, which leads me to think (some?) insurance will cover it. So, duh, single-payer comprehensive healthcare now, please.

But back to the world we actually live in. On the first couple of seasons, which I watched during the pandemic for pandemic reasons, Amy is the sister who makes strides. She wants to get married, have a baby, and get her diabetes under control, all of which she does. Meanwhile, Tammy spirals deeper into herself. The more weight she gains, the more house-bound she becomes, and the more closed her face gets. She is a wall of anger and obstinance, sometimes saying she wants the surgery, but also weaponizing the only tools she has to try to keep her family from bossing her around (while being completely reliant on them for care). She ends up in the hospital many times, becomes dependent on a trach and a ventilator, and eventually goes to an in-patient rehab facility.

I watched the most recent season this past month. I had new reasons, although I suppose they're the reasons most people watch weight loss shows: They need to lose weight themselves, and—somewhere between inspiration and schadenfreude—they want to see that others need to lose even more. 

In June of last year, my A1C inched into the prediabetic range. In December of this year, my liver enzymes were a little high. I went into a full OCD trauma-spiral, as I do, worrying that they were indicative of a cancer recurrence or a new cancer. My annual pancreatic MRI showed no signs of pancreatic cancer, but it did confirm "mild fatty liver." It turns out that occasionally (or not so occasionally) having the eating habits of a paté goose turns my liver into paté. 

Basically, the diagnosis was that I was a middle-aged American. 

I go back and forth when it comes to body image. I don't hate my body, but I do wish I had more style, or the time and/or money for more style. I'm not looking for a bikini bod, although I wouldn't mind it as a side effect. I believe in Healthy at Every Size, but the numbers were telling me that my size wasn't super healthy for me. And if it's possible to nip additional health conditions in the bud, before they become creeping parasitic vines, I would like to. I don't want to feel terrified that every "out of bounds" test result is cancer. I mean, it's good to know there are lots of health issues that aren't (immediately, at least) fatal, but it would be easier if my numbers were just in bounds.

So I tuned back into 1,000 Lb Sisters, not sure whether I would find inspiration or a cautionary tale, but I was there for either. 

Plot twist: Tammy qualifies for surgery and makes an incredible transformation. Not just weight loss, though definitely weight loss. That boost begets more boosts, a reminder that upward spirals are a thing too. The closed-off look on her face vanishes, and a sweetness blooms in its place. She wants to do all the things she couldn't before, from traveling to getting a pedicure. (And she's still fat, which is perhaps proof of HAES.) 

Meanwhile, Amy's marriage falters when her blank-faced husband fails to do any childcare, and Amy becomes as stressed out and overwhelmed as any single mother of a baby and a toddler would be. 

Say what you will about reality TV, but there aren't many opportunities to witness real change in real people over time outside of our own lives. Amy and Tammy's crisscrossing journeys are a reminder that neither failure nor success are guaranteed, or static. And while there's absolutely a modern-sideshow quality to most of TLC's shows (the Tom Thumbs, the fat ladies), the show also reveals, maybe by accident, how obesity isn't just about eating habits.

When Tammy and Amy's two other sisters and brother join the cast, we see that they're fat too, suggesting that weight has a lot to do with genetics. We also meet their mom, who's mean and unsupportive; crappy childhoods do not often make for great self-care habits. But if the siblings have these marks against them, they also have an asset in each other. It's as heartwarming to see them work together as it is savagely fun to see them bicker.

Narrative fiction likes an underdog, but it likes that person to fail just once, or if they fail more than once, to have most of the failure happen offscreen prior to the opening credits. Nyad is exciting because Diana is determined to achieve her Cuba-to-Florida swim record to the point of near-lunacy; she's not just a bad bet, she's starting to be a little...embarrassing? Tammy Slaton fails so consistently that we feel like we're watching her slow death. 

I tend to flail when I can't plug myself into a narrative, whether it's one created by society or in my own head, or some combination.  

So narratives where people struggle multiple times, over the course of years, to get to a goal that they ultimately achieve are nice for us "gotta be perfect outta the gates" types. 

Honestly a little stagnation doesn't sound horrible. Could the world hold still for a minute, please?
(photo: Gerd Altmann via Pixabay)

Getting laid off in June was a bigger hit than I acknowledged. I found a good job that I started on the last day of my severance, so what did I have to worry about? But the experience shook my already shaky sense of order and safety. And even though the new good job came with new good health coverage, the process of finding new providers for myself and Dash and Joey was a slog and a half. I signed up with a new pediatrician just to receive a letter that she was leaving the practice, despite what my plan's website said. 

Multiply that times a bunch, and add two cups of medical PTSD. It produced an exhaustion that sometimes seemed vague and silly, and sometimes felt like doom barreling down the tracks. I wasn't my worst between June and January, but I wasn't my best.

Last month, I made some small steps toward better eating habits and more exercise. This spring, I'm trying for a few more, despite the fact that life has not removed all stressors. So rude of it.

I just finished a memoir by a Black trans writer who said they wrote their book because it was what they wished they'd had growing up. They wished for role models and looked for them in a few wrong places. I need people who model a growth mindset, because as I've said before, I'm so bad at growth mindset! What do my body and my kids and my relationship need? A reminder that change is always happening; learning is always happening. Not every obstacle is surmountable at every moment, but the other extreme isn't true either; no one has their life story written in stone at birth. 

So, I want to conjure a mental image of a person with big dreams and small goals (not just fitness-related, but writing, parenting, all of it), who can see the true loveliness all around them. That person looks a little bit like a lot of people I know, and a little bit like Tammy Slaton, and maybe even a little bit like me.