A Spa Like No Other

I'm relishing my first day post German class and decided to curl up this morning with my new friend, BBC Prime. (Yes, I know, you only really want to hear how poorly I did in the class but you'll have to wait until I get some psychological distance for that one.)

Anyway, BBC Prime, for the uninitiated, is a treasure trove of stale British television shows clearly aimed at the nostalgic pensioner and cleverly marketed towards the expat desperate for english content in any form. It is trash. It is cheesy and most shows debuted and were promptly cancelled in the late 80s. Under any other circumstance, I would skip it altogether but with our outrageously expensive rip-off, I mean, "English channel cable package" it's either this or National Geographic or what like to call "When Babooms (and other predators) Attack Small African Babies Leaving Unsuspecting Viewer in A Flood of Tears Channel." Frankly, I just wasn't in the mood to watch a newly wed couple get mauled by a black bear in the Colorado Rockies...again.

Okay, where was I? Right, well, BBC Prime is crap but it serves as a chip-chip-cheerio way to start the day. First, I make myself an English Muffin and tea with cream (yes, really) and I snuggle up to Bargain Hunt for some wholesome British fun. Bargain Hunt is guarantee crowd pleaser. Two grandmas in the quilting club or two bandmates in the college tenor duo team up to scour Great Britain for bargains that they hope to sell at auction for a profit. Fascinating stuff, really. Amazing the trash that people will buy.

Then, comes the wildcard at 10am. Will it be "What Not to Wear" with Trinny and Susannah? Carleton and Stacey's rowdier predecessors whose mission is to stylize British fashion victims. (who knew they could say 'tit' on British telly without a flinch?) Or "A Life Coach Less Ordinary" about an eccentric married couple who use a mix of psychology, meditation, and positive reinforcement to cure the chronically wacked out. Think obsessive house cleaners, hair pullers, and 40 year old virgins. All good, old fashioned reality trash. Just my kind of programming.

Today. Today's show, though, took the cake. Today's show, took a turn for the worse. Today's show, took the term "reality tv" to a whole new level. Today, I was introduced to the show called "A Spa for Embarrassing Illnesses." Yes, folks, that's really the name. This fascinating drama follows 8 seemily healthy Brits, all of whom suffer from "embarrassing illnesses," as they spend two weeks detoxing at a spanish spa said to be able to cure just about anything, no matter how chronic or debilitating. There's the 25 year women whose been diagnosed with hyderhydrosis--or excessive sweating, the 26 year old who has Irritable Bowel Syndrome and who I quote, "Can't remember the last time she had a good poo," the 41 year compulsive overeater, and the 32 year man who has such bad ezcema that he wakes up in bloody sheets. Grossed out, yet? No, okay. To cure them of their varied and sundry illnesses, they undergo everything from yoga to acupunture to colonics to counseling to a seven day fast. Throughout their journey, the voyaristic viewer is exposed to every procedure, personal discovery, and bodily omission (prodding rubber gloves and manhandling of fecal material seems to provide the shock factor the show is looking for).

It is gross out tv in it's most primal form so of course, I just HAD to watch. I was fascinated, if not also a bit dismayed by the content and by my unflinching inability to step back and turn away from the programming. I laughed. I cried. I wanted to see it again and again. It was better than "Cats." Can't wait to find out tomorrow who is sent to the infirmary first and whose diet needs alternating due to excessive dehydration.

Can't say I'd want to sign for a spa quite like that but admitting to the world that I watched it is embarrassing enough. Hmmm. Maybe I'm the one with the chronic illness...