During infrequent bouts with insomnia, I have allowed my mind to succumb to the logic-polluting drivel that constitutes the plethora of paid infomercials on late-night cable TV.

Because of this miracle of modern television, I have learned about the excitement that comes from spending $130 on exfoliating creams and potions that promise to make my skin clear and as smooth as upholstery made from rich Corinthian leather (I never knew what that was — but, Ricardo What’s-his-name made a big deal about it).

I have watched a studio audience (of nearly six people) gush over a set of pots and pans with copper bottoms, pearl handles and a price tag that the typical late-night consumer can only manage by making three easy payments equal to half my mortgage.

I have salivated over the thought that I, too, could have a full head of hair, teeth so white that they glow in the dark, and contend with worrying about improving my love life to the point where it might accidently last longer than four hours. (I have a firm policy of drawing the line at three hours and 45 minutes).

Thanks to post-primetime advertising, I am fully aware of the existence of knives that can cut through concrete blocks and then thin-slice a tomato for a yummy BLT sandwich, water sealant in a spray can that will turn the average screen door into a personal water craft, and gourmet dog food especially formulated to bring back my aging puppy’s “social side.” (I don’t know what that is, either).

This brief exposure to the seamy underbelly of television nightlife has also lead me to the conclusion that there are 12 easy steps to weight loss.

#1: Eat less. The only “easy” part of this step is if you are telling someone else to do it.

#2: Eat healthy. For people like me that refuse to understand what “eating healthy” actually means, there are lots of companies that will ship us pre-packaged meals — no calculating points, no need to understand the science behind a healthy diet, and no flavor. I think the trick is to just eat one “meal” at each sitting — this could be where such a plan might fail me.

#3: Take lots of pills. Ones that speed up your metabolism, slow down your appetite, and/or turn your lower digestive track into a fat drain (watch out for the one with the “anal leakage” warning — it’s a real thing).

#4: Exercise. According to my count, there are more fitness machines on the market than automobile manufacturers that actually meet the EPA fuel consumption requirements. There are machines that simulate rowing across the English Channel, hiking rugged paths in the jungles of Omaha, riding a mountain bike to Kalamazoo (I didn’t know Kzoo had any mountains), or dodging puppy piles while strolling through the park (way too realistic for my tastes).

Fortunately, I do not know about the other eight steps. The commercials for exercise machines, meal plans, and placebo diet pills make me very sleepy and I’ve never stayed awake long enough to clog my brain any further. However, I am fairly certain that one of those steps has to do with eating very little due to having spent all the grocery money on acne cures and hair loss remedies — and getting a second one absolutely free (just pay additional shipping and handling).

 

Larry Wilson is a mostly lifelong resident of Niles. His optimistic “glass full to overflowing” view of life shapes his writing. His essays stem from experiences, compilations and recollections from friends and family. Wilson touts himself as “a dubiously licensed teller of tall tales, sworn to uphold the precept of ‘It’s my story; that’s the way I’m telling it.’” He can be reached at wflw@hotmail.com.