The stalker you see in the commercial is Charles Stuart Platkin, who lost some weight ten years ago and kept it off (this is so improbable that it’s the first thing the show’s web page tells you about him). So now he’s a crusader. He finds, stalks, and criticizes fat women. Personally, I’d call them mid-size women. And then he attempts to remake them in his image, or something.
Miriam’s commentary is trenchant and dead on target.
First of all, this guy is like a stalker, following her around, monitoring her. He’s creepy beyond belief. Secondly, this once again, for the millionth time perpetuates the myth that everyone who is overweight is secretly and guilty sneaking ice cream sundaes. We should know by now that weight is much more complex than that. Thirdly, this shit is just sensationalist. I want to save your life? This woman does not look like she is at risk of dying because of a few extra pounds.
I was surprised to see that Platkin does stalk and try to “save” men as well as women (and sometimes heterosexual couples, just for the variety I guess).
Me, I just have a dream. I want him to come after me. I want that plain unmarked spymobile to watch me come out in the morning for work, with no food in my hand. I want that nondescript thin-faced guy to sit next to me at a lunch counter, when I order a salad, or a root beer float. I want him to search my cupboards, and find a variety of foods of all caloric levels.
And I really, really want him to try to find out what deep-seated neurosis or unhappiness makes me fat. I’ll make a couple of bets: first, that I know more about the subject than he does; second, that I’m more articulate and better at arguing than he is; and third, that I can embarrass the fuck out of him just by saying what I think in plain, occasionally profane, English. I’d have such a good time.
Hey, Charlie! Come and get it!
(Thanks to Liz Henry for the pointer.)