"The Biggest Loser:" UNfit for Obesity Patients

Content warning: This post reviews content that is centered around extreme weight loss and workouts as well as diet culture. If these topics are sensitive for you, please feel free to skip this post.

If you have a Netflix account, you have at least heard about the docuseries giving the inside scoop on the hit reality TV show "The Biggest Loser." When the show was on the air throughout the 2000s and 2010s, I'd never watched it, but certainly heard enough about it. Now, as someone on an intentional weight loss journey, who creates all types of content about medical weight loss and the disease of obesity, you bet I've done a deep dive.

In the interest of full disclosure, I'm not above reality TV -- I'm a "Dance Moms" superfan. I've consumed my fair share of "Dance Moms" BTS content as well as interviews with former cast members. As a result, I've come to have an idea of how reality TV can work -- and how far the producers of "Dance Moms" went to create compelling television. So, the fact that I've never seen an episode of "The Biggest Loser" had nothing to do with a personal dislike for reality TV -- and far more to do with the fact that I never wanted to consume any media that centered around weight loss.

In the "before times," I was scared that I'd be forced to confront my own demons by watching a weight loss-based television program -- with one exception. "My 600-LB Life..." because I'd tell myself that at least, I wasn't 600 pounds. That said, during one of my previous attempts to right the ship, I'd watched several episodes of "Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition," led by a personal trainer who Oprah herself endorsed (and produced by JD Roth, one of the EPs of "The Biggest Loser"). I stopped watching the show once I'd, again, fallen off the wagon THAT time.

However, I digress. Because now... I'm not only watching "My 600-LB Life." If it's about weight loss, I'm watching it or listening to it -- because I'm interested for a myriad of reasons. Mostly, because I am anxious to see if the folks behind the particular content will treat obesity as a medical disease. So, when "Fit For TV" dropped on Netflix, I was not only interested to see how "The Biggest Loser" treated the disease of obesity and its patients on the show, but also how the documentary itself treated it. And I'm angry. Angry, but not surprised. Get ready, because I'm gonna drop some opinions. And not everyone is going to agree. I understand that I'm not a medical professional or a fitness instructor; however, my own study of the disease of obesity as well as my own journey (and failed journeys over the years) give me basis for these opinions.

"The Biggest Loser" forced morbidly obese patients to complete highly dangerous exercise regimens.

I've entered several races over this past summer. Anthony recently asked me why I am entering so many races and the short answer is, "Because I can now." I don't run for the entirety of most of these races, but my most recent race was a one-mile race -- and I proudly ran the entire course in just under 13 minutes (which was my personal record). Why do I say "Because I can now?" You guessed it -- I couldn't before. My body couldn't handle it even as recently as a year ago.

As I've stated before, so-called "experts" love to tell fat folks to "eat less and move more." Well, when you weigh 300-plus pounds, exercise is next to impossible. You need to exercise to lose weight, but you also need to lose weight to exercise. I lost 75 pounds before I recorded my first mile that I exclusively ran and didn't walk at all. The documentary told a story of a woman named Tracey who attempted to run a full mile ON THE FIRST DAY OF FILMING, because the production team told her, "Run the full mile or you won't be on the show."

While I'm reasonably sure Tracey weighed less than I did when she started her journey than I did when I started mine, she did NOT weigh less than I did when I recorded my first mile run. Before I started running miles, I walked miles. I ran quarter-miles. I ran half-miles. My body needed to work up to being able to run a full mile. My upset feelings about this one-mile run stunt was not so much about Tracey's weight, but more about the fact that Tracey was not training before attempting to run a full mile IN SAND. She wasn't given the chance to work up her stamina. Unfortunately, Tracey fainted on the course, and her "Biggest Loser" cast mates had to help her cross the finish line. A medical team came by helicopter to revive her. And it was all on camera, to be aired on national network television.

Not only was Tracey's humiliation aired for the entire United States to see, she was hospitalized as a result of the incident. The production team should have listened to the doctor on the show's staff, before shaming a morbidly obese patient to run a mile in sand without any training or without having lost any weight prior to the attempt. I know I couldn't have done it even six months ago. I'm not a doctor, but I know that what the production team put Tracey through in the name of TV ratings was nothing short of disgusting.

The incident involving Tracey was only a microcosm of what the doc shows in terms of inhumane exercise routines featured on "The Biggest Loser." Contestants were working out for five and six hours a DAY. I've been exercising daily for months now... and I think I only end up exercising for an average of six hours a WEEK. Not to mention, these workouts were NFL-level workouts. Contestants were throwing up on treadmills and falling over while lifting weights. If I was working out for six hours a day at that level of intensity, every day, I'd be falling over too.

Another contestant, Carla (who did not appear on the doc herself but Netflix included footage of her) is shown in a scene with her teammate, Joelle (who did appear on the doc). The two women were in the midst of an argument when Carla announced to Joelle that she was "down to 335." I gasped out loud -- not at the argument, but at the fact that Carla weighed more than 335 pounds when she STARTED on the show. Not only was Carla completing Navy Seal-style workouts at that weight, but also, at an even larger weight! I couldn't do those workouts now, forget about at 318 pounds and certainly cannot imagine completing them at 335.

I used to be out of breath while wheeling our garbage can from the front door to the end of our driveway. I used to avoid emptying the dishwasher because it was strenuous for me to reach the bottom rack. I used to sit on the floor at work when I filed because I couldn't bend over to reach ground-level file drawers. And I weighed less than Carla did after she LOST weight. How was this poor woman not exhausted?!

Do I believe in having an exercise routine at any weight? "Moving your body?" Sure. Start small. Walk for 10 minutes a day or until there's intolerable pain. Work up to 15 and then 20 minutes. Lift one-pound weights to start and then work up to higher weight. But in no way should I have been completing Navy Seal/NFL-level workouts -- and neither should have Carla.

Completing intense workouts when you're morbidly obese is not, as the TV trainers want you to believe, "mind over matter." I am not opposed to pushing your limits in a workout, that's part of the whole point. However, when a morbidly obese person says, "I can't," it's the truth. Pushing a morbidly obese person SO far past his/her/their limits is unsafe, and no amount of screaming "YES YOU CAN!" or "How bad do you want it?!" or "Dig DEEP!" at your trainee is going to change that fact. Significant weight loss HAS to come before intense physical activity.

By the final episode of the three-part doc, viewers are informed that one of the lead trainers on "The Biggest Loser," Bob Harper (who was also one of the doc's main interview subjects), suffered a heart attack AT THE GYM. He's recovered since, but apparently... the workouts even took their toll on someone who is in remarkably good shape. If years upon years of intense workouts caused a fitness instructor to have a heart attack, the contestants on the show truly got lucky.

The exploitation of the contestants' food noise by the "Biggest Loser" production team should be considered psychological abuse.

One particular portion of "The Biggest Loser" involved a "Temptation Challenge." The contestants would be asked to stand in a room that was quite literally filled with food for five minutes. That's all the time they would have to eat as much of the food as they could. That sort of binge would be physically unhealthy for anyone at any size -- I would know (yes, I entered a speed eating contest or two during high school), but I'd imagine it was psychologically destructive for those who experience food noise without medical intervention to curb it.

"The Biggest Loser" aired in the 2000s and 2010s, before education on food noise, the disease of obesity, and GLP-1 medications, was readily accessible and mainstream. I understand that fact, as I didn't have the education back then either. However, the point that the production team was attempting to convey went along the lines of, "these fatties can't be trusted around food." And the contestants were grossly humiliated. They had five minutes and then it was over.

I cannot imagine the depths of the food noise that went on in the minds of these contestants, both inside and once they were out of the room. My food noise was relentless and exhausting, but this level of what I'd consider induced food noise? Nothing short of psychological torture. Even without the information that is now available about food noise and the disease of obesity, this type of public display shouldn't have ever been permitted -- especially on television.

The documentary itself attempted to discredit GLP-1 medications.

I knew that we couldn't possibly get through any type of documentary about weight loss, in the Year of Our Lord 2025, without having some types of opinions about GLP-1s as part of its script. It was simply par for the course -- but that doesn't mean it didn't grind my gears.

The doc, in a dead giveaway that the production team possessed no original ideas, showed a clip of the famous Ozempic commercial -- you know the one. "Oh-Oh-Oh-Ozempic!" to the tune of "Oh-Oh-Oh it's magic!" by Three Dog Night.

The doc also showed a clip of the Golden Globe awards being touted as "Ozempic's biggest night of the year." It showed a clip of a doctor who made a joke (yes, a doctor!) about how "The Biggest Loser" in 2025 would look like "a bunch of people injecting themselves." It even showed that same doctor comparing GLP-1 medications to "Phen Phen" (a diet culture '90s throwback I've tried hard to forget). And, it showed a clip from podcast on which Jillian Michaels, the famous face behind "The Biggest Loser," denounced the use of GLP-1 medications when she proclaimed -- and I'm paraphrasing here -- that folks will "just gain the weight back" and not learn any meaningful lifestyle changes (whether they come in the form of diet or exercise).

No DUH. 2025 Jillian Michaels is scared, folks. Scared of losing all of her beautiful money because those of us who suffer from the disease of obesity are FINALLY waking up to the fact that while you can short-term burn the weight off, which is what she gets paid to instruct trainees to do... you can't crash-workout the disease away. Obesity is a multi-faceted, complex, chronic disease that no amount of exercise alone can cure for once and for all.

Danny, a contestant on "The Biggest Loser" who was one of the doc's main interview subjects, indicated that he lost 239 pounds in six months while on the show. Sorry, Jillian, but we aren't paying you for that level of rapid weight loss anymore. We are actively rising up against it. By the way... Danny gained his weight back, because that level of physical activity is impossible to integrate into an everyday life, filled with all of the normal tasks of, oh I don't know, being a citizen of the world? Being an adult? With responsibilities BESIDES working out?

Of course you can find time to work out six hours a day when you're living on a ranch on a reality show and your family is at home waiting for you to return, and you don't have to report to your job every day for months. And when you go from working out that frequently and that intensely to trying to integrate working out into your normal, everyday life? Of course you're going to gain the weight back.

So, which plan is really the one that's going to make you gain the weight back? A plan that includes a GLP-1 medication, that can be used as a tool to integrate into your daily life (that for some of us includes a jam-packed schedule) along with reasonable dietary changes and exercise routines that get progressively more intense over time? Or, the plan that goes from a morbidly obese person living in a literal retreat house with no responsibilities, with a strict, restrictive, unrealistic diet (save for "temptation" binges), working out six hours a day... to that person returning to their old life? I don't think it takes a doctor to know which one is more sustainable.

Sure, I've lost 85 pounds over 15 months -- and some contestants on "The Biggest Loser" lost double that amount in the same time frame. But I've continued living my life. And not only have I continued living it, I'm enjoying it. If I was ever a contestant on "The Biggest Loser," I'm pretty sure I'd feel like I was being released from Food Jail the second I got home. Over 15 months on a GLP-1, and I have yet to feel like I'm in Food Jail.

I could, amazingly, write even more opinions on this subject, but we're already pushing a 10-minute read and I'm impressed if anyone has made it this far. I could talk about the fact that the doc ends with the statistic that in 2025, 45 percent of American adults are considered obese, but it does not explain that any BMI 40 and over is considered Class III Obese -- whether that BMI is 41 or 61. My BMI was 54 when I weighed 318 pounds and now, it's just 40 at 233 pounds... but I am STILL considered Class III Obese. I could also talk about the bombshell dropped on the doc, revealing that Jillian Michaels allegedly provided contestants with caffeine pills. Or that, on the first season finale of "The Biggest Loser," she whispered in the ear of Ryan, the season's winner, that he's "going to make (her) a millionaire." I wish I was remotely surprised that an ambassador of the diet industry was excited over the fact that she was profiting off exploiting the morbidly obese, but I'm not surprised in the least.

I sincerely hope that those watching the doc look at the diet culture present on "The Biggest Loser" and understand... that's not how obesity works. That's not how it works at all.