I used to so proudly announce to all who listened that I never watch reality TV. I had only seen one season of Survivor (the one set in Australia) and had never seen Big Brother, Australian Idol or any of the other reality TV shows that dominate our airways these days. I used to condemn it as a dumbing down of the TV medium and that it pushed off the airwaves those shows that were actually well-written (Firefly, I still mourn your disappearance from my TV).
That is until I sat down and watched the first episode of this season’s Biggest Loser. I have to shamefully admit that I am addicted to this show that my girlfriend loves to call “the fat people whining show”. I must agree with her, a lot of the show is full of people breaking down and crying and complaining that exercising is too difficult, but I love it just the same. I have strong, passionate feelings about the contestants from being their biggest cheerleader to hating them on sight. I have dilemmas about who my favourite trainer is – Michelle started off so well but has now become a petty bitch, whilst Shannon who I found kinda annoying has grown on me. I am just so wrapped up in this show that it has reached the level of being kinda embarassing.
However, I have discovered the appeal of reality TV. It has the ability of making you feel a part of something, like you are going on a journey with these people and in a way you are. Yes, it is at times completely unrealistic and overdramatised – but really that just give you a great opportunity to mock them – and who doesn’t love to mock reality TV.
I think I have also got my girlfriend hooked on the Biggest Loser, although she will never admit it. The one night last week, I was out, I asked her to tape it. She did – and I got SMS updates on the big events that occurred which means that she chose to watch it as well.