Not only are they often unintentionally hilarious, but they have a certain formula and flavour that promises to reveal something about how marketing, emotion, and motivation interact.

So I’ve gathered a small collection over time. (I buy them used. For one thing, I enjoy the older ones for their vintage charm, but I also figure I’m doing a public service by removing them from the market, while not directly lining the pockets of the authors.) But collecting and actually reading them are two different things, requiring different moods.

Lately, I’ve found myself in the reading mood, and I’ve stumbled across some truly bizarre gems. Here’s one for today:

“About seventeen years ago a very close friend of mine said in a moment of anger, ‘Look, Blimpo, why don’t you just go over there and be fat!’ Blimpo? Me? This statement affected me as if someone had taken a big steel pot, put it over my head, and smashed it with a metal spoon.”

-Fit for Life, Diamond, 1985

There’s a lot of hilarity to be unpacked here, the most obvious being, to me, that the steel pot/metal spoon scenario would swiftly become violent reality if one of my “very close friends” talked to me like this.

But the underlying message here is that verbal abuse is a good motivator to lose weight…rather than a good motivator to administer a well-deserved ass-kicking.

Just think of all that wasted calorie-burning potential.

This video shows Brigid Polk, one of the members of Andy Warhol’s Factory — a former society girl whose mother forced her to diet from a young age — describing how she uses speed instead of various reducing salons, yet insists on not being “uptight” about being the fat girl in a bathing suit.

Brigid is a rebel and a troublemaker, no doubt, but also someone who has obviously been victimized by a culture that demands the impossible from women.

As such, I offer this counterpoint — a clip from Jean Kilbourne’s Slim Hopes, which applies a serious context to every single one of these silly Diet Pop Culture posts.

The theme that underlies both Brigid’s experience, and the messages in Kilbourne’s film, is that women must be thin, must look a certain way, or risk losing love from their families and significant others, and acceptance from society as a whole. This kind of ostracism can be the kiss of death for social primates, like humans — naturally, we’ll do anything to avoid it.

“Easy to inflate.” Well, thank heavens for small mercies. Otherwise, you might never be able to realize your dream of sporting the WORLD’S LARGEST CAMELTOE.

And if that doesn’t do it for you, there’s also a long version:

ETA: The following is courtesy of Twistie, in comments: Monty Python’s Trim Jeans Theatre.

Either way, this dude — with his short shorts, his Nair-smooth legs, and his zinc-oxide lip balm — is basically my ideal man.

(Well…except for the shorts, the hairless legs, the lip balm, and the utter lack of human emotion in the face of his high technology lifestyle.)

I don’t know — if losing weight in the ’60s meant wearing a modified sporty beehive, some Keds, and a look that says “I’m about to win first place in a National Twist-Off!” while wiggling yourself into happy oblivion atop 90 ball bearings, then…maybe count me in.

It probably never did a damn thing to help anyone lose weight, but add a Tom Collins and some music, and you’ve got yourself a hell of a Friday night.

Anyhow, I imagine I’ll have some interesting stuff to write about when I’m back, since I’m attending a training workshop called “Treating the Dieting Casualty,” which should sharpen my nascent counseling skills in normal eating. I’ll also get to meet Ellyn Satter, which I…can’t describe my excitement about.

Talk to you soon.

ETA: A while ago, I promised you tapeworms. So, behold — tapeworms:

Includes an offensive Mr. Yunioshi-style cameo of a “Chinese” waiter, holy shit.

Try adding some fat to your fat — you’ll be so fat, you might just fat yourself.

“Reach for a Lucky instead of a sweet” is probably one of the more well-known taglines in advertising history. That doesn’t prevent it from creeping me the fuck out every time I encounter it.

And you’ll never guess who the inspiration was for this little gem —

In the November 19, 1948 issue of Printers’ Ink, Vincent Riggio, President of The American Tobacco Company, relates the alerting story of one of the most famous of all sales-building cigarette campaigns –

“Some years ago, I was riding up town with George W. Hill, and we had gone about five miles through New York City without Mr. Hill having spoken one word. He was thinking deeply about something, and knowing Mr. Hill, I did not interrupt his trend of thought.

“This went on for a while, and we were obliged to stop for a traffic light. The car was standing there for a few minutes, and Mr. Hill grabbed me and said, ‘I’ve got it.’ Then, ‘Look,’ he said, pointing to a stout woman who was standing on the sidewalk waiting to cross the street. This woman had a big piece of candy in her hand and was eating it. A taxicab had pulled up between the sidewalk and our car, the occupant of which was a slender, nice looking woman smoking a cigarette. I noticed the contrast immediately. Mr. Hill said again, ‘I’ve got it…”Reach for a Lucky Instead of a Sweet.”‘

“Many in marketing today believe that campaign created more women smokers than any other single promotional effort.”

-Julian Lewis Watkins, The 100 Greatest Advertisements, 1959

– Some poor innocent bystander of a fat lady, who had the audacity to eat candy in public.

Naturally, the throat-soothing action of deliciously toasted tobacco is far more wholesome and good for the constitution than abandoning oneself to the horrors of corpulence.

My first thought was, “What in the HELL is vitamin G?” Turns out that’s what they used to call riboflavin (now known as vitamin B2.)

Mmm, riboflavin.

My second thought was — “a shake for breakfast, a shake for lunch…and then a sensible dinner!” And this is from 1935, when, apparently, a sensible low-fat dinner consisted of 900 calories. Holy shit.

I mean, my breakfast this morning was likely 900 calories, but that was greasy-spoon diner breakfast. I can only imagine the volume of food required to make up a low-fat 900 calorie meal.

Not to squick people out with numbers and calories or anything. But these are things I think of, and numbers (oddly) don’t bother me anymore.

In other news, what a week it’s been. I ran around to three different hospitals, working 10-12 hours per day (mostly because I was feeling crappy, and everything took me twice as long as usual.) I saw patients, I wrote chart notes, I counted people’s calories, and I thought about food.

I thought about how much cancer sucks. And how much the treatments suck.

I thought about how scary it must be to be stuck in a hospital bed in a strange country.

I thought about how lonely it must be to have dementia and not know who anybody is.

I thought about how much it must suck to be terrified of eating.

As much as it also sucks to struggle with normal eating, with negotiating one’s way through a culture riddled with anti-body minefields, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for the health I now enjoy, and the relative ease with which I eat.

I also couldn’t help but feel that one day — maybe tomorrow, maybe in 50 years — I will be one of those patients.

I will have troubles of my own, and I will count on someone like me for help.

Also, now that the crazy-ass work week has ended, I go back to my largely-lady-of-leisure status. Which means writing some actual content-containing posts, and responding to people’s emails. So if you receive a random flood of emails from me in the next week, don’t be alarmed. I’m just getting caught up.

Me neither.

Making food unpalatable = instant willpower.

Or you could just move to a tiny apartment with three cats who share a litter box. And who have impeccable bathroom timing (i.e. mealtimes.)

WHY NO, I’M NOT BITTER.

Anyway, I’m working like crazy over the next week or so, but I will respond to everyone who’s contacted me very soon. Sorry for the delay.

Share your own ridiculous diet culture shit, or simply take part in the pointing-and-laughing in comments.

And I don’t intend these posts to come from a place of pure derision and bitterness, but actually just because I think this shit is funny, and some of it makes me feel nostalgic. I must admit to you now that I have a soft spot for old aerobics videos.

Let’s call this a semi-regular feature, and we’ll pretend like this is a real blog or something, okay?

So, my favourite exercise video of the day comes from the unparalleled genius of Everything is Terrible. Enjoy.

…my unwholesome fascination with this man.

Walk it out…

Then break it down.