My 600-Pound Life, a popular reality TV show documenting the lives of morbidly obese subjects as they try to reach a healthy weight, lacks empathy and sensitivity. Some fans are supportive of the show because many participants eventually end up healthier, but the practices used by the doctors and producers, such as filming patients in the shower or shaming them for their eating habits, lead to a show that toes the line between entertainment and exploitation.
While the concept has promise as a tool for education and awareness, the execution of this particular program misses that mark by a long shot. Rather illustrating the psychological and cultural components of food addiction and obesity, the producers of My 600-Pound Life invade the personal lives of the participants, casting ignominy on their eating habits and lifestyles. Episodes often feature extended scenes in which participants are bathed, fully nude, by their caregivers, or scenes where they struggle to use the restroom. It’s dehumanizing and humiliating. Why does TLC think it has a free pass to turn the daily lives of chronically ill people into a spectacle to be laughed at online?
The answer probably lies in the United States’ general disdain of the overweight and obese. Even in a culture that does everything it can to prevent its citizens from living healthily, being fat is seen as a sign of laziness or even moral failure. The truth is that food addiction is a physiological reality, just like many other kinds of addiction that receive more sympathy from our society. It’s also a common trauma response, a phenomenon that’s clearly seen in the show; almost every participant has had some kind of traumatic history, from childhood abuse to the untimely death of a parent. The producers somehow manage to sidestep the conversation about this connection, revealing every subject’s past while also placing the blame for their poor health entirely on bad decisions.
Essentially, My 600-Pound Life capitalizes on the suffering of chronically ill and desperate for the sake of capital and entertainment. The show takes advantage of cultural ideas that allow their gross invasions of privacy to seem acceptable. We all know that a program about anorexic patients called My 85-Pound Life would never fly, so why are we letting these producers and executives exploit a different form of disordered eating? Life-saving medical care is not a spectator sport, and the entertainment industry is doing patients with obesity a disservice.
Photo: Lonnie and John at a doctor consult during the Season 8 episode of “My 600-lb Life” on TLC.
Great piece, making excellent points. I had no idea this show even existed.