Years and years ago, I saw a short lecture demonstration on PBS. It was Dr. Michael F. Roizen explaining some basic but insightful information about food’s effect on our system. The points made were revelatory and in simple enough terms, without dismissing proper terminology and the complex information sometimes imparted. I was impressed enough that since I was late in getting out a pen and paper to take some notes, I decided I wanted to get the DVD. So I got the DVD and watched the lecture again, from the beginning, and took notes.
I like understanding. Anyone who knows me knows that I’m not one to point to as an example of a well balanced diet and exercise. I’ll make no such claims. I can stand to lose a chunk of myself, I grant. But if I ever get around to becoming aggressive about losing weight, I like understanding the whys and wherefores of an altered diet. It’s the analytical part of me. I’m not one to follow a diet blindly because it’s the latest fad or because it worked for someone else. I want to understand how the food that I eat is ingested and processed in my system.
This led me to purchase and read You, The Owner’s Manual, co-written by the aforementioned Dr. Michael F. Roizen and Dr. Mehmet C. Oz. Yes. That Dr. Oz. The book was fantastic and allowed such simple adjustments in tons of different ways that it was hard not to adopt some right away. Happily, as I’d suspected, my eating habits were relatively healthy and not alarming, so in that sense, I know I don’t have a shocking alteration ahead of me if I ever do decide to become aggressive about weight loss.
And then, one day, I heard that Dr. Oz was going to have his own show about health, akin to what I’d seen Dr. Roizen air, a couple of years earlier. Perfect, I thought. Useful tips on a regular basis. Lookin’ forward.
Nobody told me (and this is a world I don’t participate in) that he was an Oprah apostle. I didn’t know that he was coming with a ready-made cult following. At first it was subtle. A studio full of women, no men. Not like that lecture Dr. Roizen gave years ago, in which there was a balanced representation of men and women of all ages. Ah well. The show started out well enough. Good information, useful, worthy of note-taking. Due to varying job schedules, I sort of lost sight of it off and on.
Lately, I’ve started to check in again, having established a more routine evening schedule. I still take notes. Just fewer. Sometimes I don’t even tune in. I’m turned off by what the show has developed into. It’s a cross between Oprah and The Price is Right, neither of which I was ever drawn to.
I don’t have anything against Oprah, or against Dr. Oz, for that matter. I have a really sensitive cringe factor, however, at fawning women who idolize. It’s like a groupie fest. How can anyone tell, you ask, if the show is supposed to be about Dr. Oz imparting information, not about the women in his audience? Well, I’ll tell ya. Where it is a good idea, once in a while, to involve an audience member in a demonstration, Dr. Oz no longer takes a single breath without the help of an audience member. And I kid you not, when their name is called, those women jump up and down at their seats and run down that aisle like they just won the lottery. Then there’s a lot of hugging and giggling and idolizing with claims of, “You’re the best! I can’t believe I’m on the show and get to meet you!” Settle down there, Sparky, you’re just going to hold a towel and then go back to your seat.
Worse than unnecessary help, is the horrific new trend of imparting information by “Playing a Game” in the style of a game show of some sort. So now, I have to sit there, through 10 minutes of women matching foods with plates or placing them in a fridge versus a counter. This comes complete with audience participation, in which everyone yells out what they think the answer is and the ones on the stage can take their cues from them. All, so that at the end of this pandemonium, I will have gathered that coffee grounds are best kept on the counter than in the fridge, and that the same is true of sliced bread. Just tell me next time. I mean, really. Here’s how it could have gone:
“As much as there isn’t a huge difference in prolonging the life of bread on the counter versus in the fridge, starch starts to go bad more quickly in cold temperature, so you may as well leave it on the counter and enjoy a fresher taste”.
See how easy that was? Information and the reason behind it.
Most of the show is this kind of filler now. Women in fake medical robes and purple latex gloves squeal and hold up a balloon or something while more women yell out foods from the audience. Chalkboards are brought out, special effects are implemented which don’t always clearly illustrate the information, and audience participants go home with a box of green tea or a jar of lavender oil. Dr. Roizen got lost in the glamorization of it all. A diminutive man, he clearly was never going to have the charismatic pull that Dr. Oz seems to enjoy. He didn’t stand a chance translating into a commercial network. The show and its host belong, now, to a throng of wistful women in good makeup and with much time on their hands.
I’m going to re-read the book and seek out Dr. Roizen and see if he’s made any further productions.
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