Having watched the entire season, having teared up during every rousing episode, having gained 4 lbs. as I watched these hard-working folks run marathons, I’m surprised how much last night’s finale upset me.
Why didn’t I feel inspired and moved? Oh, right — Helen, you have scary bobby-pin arms! I wanted someone to slip Jerry a turkey sandwich and give his dear wife a glass of whole milk and make sure Tara left the show with a baggie of walnuts. These folks looked like they’d been starving themselves for last night’s weigh-in and might pass out at any minute.
Did anyone else out there feel like The Biggest Loser had turned into an upsetting bag of bones? Does it hurt my case that I’m eating bacon while writing this?