Enough of the fat talk. Seriously. If I hear of another sob-story television show about losing weight I might just toss the television out of my window. Look out below, people!  I don’t need the constant reminders of needing to eat right and to exercise. I get it. I know. It’s practically tattooed on the back of my eyelids.

I’ve been inundated with the need to be thin since about the time I began to like boys—let’s just say, early on. Maybe because of the impending swimsuit season or maybe because all of Hollywood is a negative zero(did you even know that size existed)—whatever the reason is, the “lose weight, feel great” campaign is running amok.

I constantly complain about my weight. It’s always on my mind. I can never walk by a mirror without thinking that something looks wrong: an inch too wide, an inch too short. You get the picture. I can’t walk down Oak Street without thinking that the pretty clothes on the mannequin will never fit me. The reality is that the designer clothing isn’t made to fit normal people. In fact, if you are larger than a size 12, good luck. My 10/12 self is verging on the brink of “plus-sizedness” in the couture world.

Now, realizing all this, I still make silly, possible fat-generating choices. For example, I know that I probably should not have had marshmallows on the Berry Chill that I just ordered. The same goes for that extra glass (or two) of red wine I had last night. And the scoop of gelato the night before. I get it. Too many calories in, too much weight gained; hence the extra mile on the treadmill at 5pm.

When I turn on the t.v., I don’t want to see some overweightperson broadcasting their sob-story about being fat and needing to lose weight. Take for example the story of Ruby Gettinger on the Style Network. She now weighs somewhere around 400 pounds though she did weigh up to 700. She laments that she can’t go to the bathroom on planes and she has bricks under her box spring so her bed will not break. She cries that she wants to take a bubblebath or sit on a man’s lap. Dear Lord. I mean, I can’t take it anymore. I feel bad for hating my body that I have to lose 20 pounds when she has to lose the equivalent of two human beings. I feel bad that she has such an awful time with men. Most of all though, I feel bad that she is broadcasting all the intimate details of her life to everyone. There’s been two seasons of her show—clearly people are watching this.

As if shows like this and the Biggest Loser aren’t enough, now Kirstie Alley is taking her rollercoaster weight situation onto cable. In her new reality show on A&E, “Kirstie Alley’s Big Life,” we are forced to witness the tragedy that is Kirstie’s dieting. I’ve read that it’s mediocre and features little else that the heavyweight lolling around her mansion and bemoaning herself to her kids. How is this entertaining? It’s depressing actually.

I can’t understand why Kirstie Alley can’t just use her resources and lose weight. She knows the paparazzi hound her mercilessly. Why not just lose weight to get them off your back if that is what you really want? Part of me thinks that she stays fat to incite the clicks of the paparazzi cameras; after all, she does make money only when she’s fat.

At any rate, I hope that this time she loses the weight and disappears.