Sounds Like A Cult - The Cult of The Biggest Loser

Episode Date: December 9, 2025

 It looked like feel-good weight loss… until Netflix told us the truth. This week, Amanda and Reese are joined by former contestant Tracey Yukich Lane (@traceyyuckichlane) to unpack how The Biggest Loser went from “inspirational reality show” to one of the most culty franchises in TV history. From weigh-in rituals and trainer worship to isolation, fear tactics, and nationwide public shaming, we’re diving into the behind the scenes world that had millions of viewers cheering for transformation while contestants were barely surviving it. Why did we believe this was healthy? How did it become so successful? And what happens when a show about losing weight starts demanding you lose yourself too? Grab your branded sweatband and your cognitive dissonance... this episode gets messy. 🏋🏻‍♂️📺🔥 Subscribe to Sounds Like A Cult on Youtube!Follow us on IG @soundslikeacultpod, @amanda_montell, @reesaronii, @chelseaxcharles.  Thank you to our sponsors! To save 10% off your first purchase of a website or domain Head to https://www.squarespace.com/CULT Find gifts so good you'll want to keep them with Quince. Go to https://Quince.com/slac Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Welcome aboard via rail. Please sit and enjoy. Please sit and sip. Play. Post. Taste. View and enjoy. Via rail, love the way.

The views expressed on this episode, as with all episodes of Sounds Like a Cult, are solely host opinions and quoted allegations. The content here should not be taken as indisputable fact. This podcast is for entertainment purposes only. It was a constant push and pull. of control. There was a level of control around food, language, emotion. We were isolated from the world. And people absolutely always questioned, you know, what kind of system is she a part of? Why is she doing this? You were just doing it your way. It wasn't my way. It was the medical. It was the medical

right. Remember, I almost died on the beach the first day. I'm not doing that. Can't have a show about weight loss and it be safe. That's an incredibly culty quote. This is Sounds Like a Cult. A show about the modern-day cults we all follow. I'm your host Amanda Montel, author of some books including cultish. And I am your co-host, Rhys Oliver, your resident Rhetoric Scholar. Every week on the show, we discuss a different zeitgeisty group that puts the cults in culture, from Satanism to American Girl Dolls. To try and answer the big question.

This group sounds like a cult, but is it really? And if so, which of our three cult categories does it fall into? A live your life, a watcher back, or a get the fuck out. After all, cultish influence these days is everywhere, but the thing is it sits on a spectrum. Some groups that look wildly fringe sometimes turn out to be relatively harmless once you look under the hood. But then there are some mainstream organizations that prove far too cultish for comfort.

The premise of this show is to analyze and examine. occasionally poke a little light-hearted fun at how people attempt to find meeting, answers, and community in the 21st century, so that we can tell the live your lives from the watcherbacks from the get-the-fuck-out. Yes, we're here so that way you can decide on what level of harmfulness sits your television show that purports to change lives and help folks that need to lose weight, but is really just a spectacle of brutal fat-shaming, humiliation,

and life-threatening tasks all in the name of entertainment? That's right, Pulties. This week, we're talking the cult of the biggest loser. Indeed, on the heels of a tell-all expose docu-series on Netflix called Fit for TV, it is high time we re-examine this 2000s weight loss competition reality TV series, and how the cult that it was continues to reverberate in unexpected ways throughout society today. Stick around for our interview with a former contestant because boy is a dishy and disturbing. Wait, Reese, you're like low-key too young for The Biggest Lusers. but I know that you know it, Reese, because when you taught me the phrase almond mom,

you mentioned the biggest loser, so I know it registered in your formative years, unfortunately. Yeah, during my young childhood years, probably from the ages of like five to eight, I lived in Colorado with my mother, and I have very distinct memories of her popping in one of those DVDs from her collection and the two of us getting our burn on. She had like the workout DVDs, spinoffs, and then like also obviously the show that we would watch. Wait, I'm sorry. She had the biggest loser on DVD. Well, I don't think it was the show. I think it was like the companion workout DVDs that they would release. Oh my God. She was participating in the merchandising. I honestly think, and we'll get into this, but I think that's like a big part of the reason why biggest loser exists is to sell workout DVDs and to sell Julian Michaels as a fitness instructor to like the layperson, not even necessarily just the people on the show. Well, cults are full of opportunists and Lord knows when the show took off. They were quick to commercialize in so many different directions. This cult, yeah, it became so much more. all consuming that I think I even realized when I would like tune into it kind of agog and aghast as a young wee child. But I think now that we're in this really unfortunate

renaissance of body shaming in our culture, we're kind of looking backwards to see what went wrong because there were 10 years in which I feel like American society was trending body positive or body accepting or body neutral. And then Kim Kardashian went on a diet skinny talk entered the picture and things are bad again. And I think it's the perfect time to kind of look back and see what early reality TV media paved the way for the cult of unabashed weight loss culture that we find ourselves back in. I think that we like to think ourselves a lot more progressive than we were in the late 90s, early 2000s, because we kind of went through that whole cultural blip where we pretended that it was okay to be who you are in the eyes of society.

But I think that a lot of these shows, like Biggest Loser, it's really sad and weird to see them kind of be reincarnated, but their modern form is much more, I guess, spectacle oriented. Biggest Loser is trying to teach you or impart a standard on other people, whereas I feel like Thousand Pound Sisters, for example, it's much more of a look at this other that you are not and laugh kind of thing. Now that we have surpassed and we have reset all of our standards, now we can readjust what we ostracize. Yeah, I think what makes the biggest loser a cult is the fact that it is trying to pull as many viewers and participants as possible into its belief system and its money-making machine, as opposed to just allowing people to ogle the people on screen from afar. It's a recruitment machine. I'm interested to get into not only our discussion, but our interview with a biggest loser survivor, someone who went through the people. the show and live to tell the tale, not without a few scars, because I'm curious how this cult even affects me and you and everyone listening, even though probably not very many of us have actually met a producer or been on the show. Yes, it'll be very intriguing to see

the various ripple effects of this cult, because I have a feeling that there are some that exist that the common man is not very cognizant of. Like, I think Biggest Loser did a lot to the culture that we don't talk about. For sure. Oh, my. God, exhuming these dead reality shows from their crypt and figuring out how they entangled themselves is just selfishly interesting to me. And I hope that some listeners can relate. Just the title itself, it's crazy. Oh, I know. I know. And I mean, there's obviously like irony in that title, but there's a lot of trolling. It's very backhanded. It's like a reminder that even though you can get to the top and you can lose all the wait, and you can be number one, we're still going to remind you of the shameful condition

that puts you in this place that we could bestow this title upon you in the first place. And it just reflects the vulnerability of participants of cult recruits that they were down at that get down, you know? Like, it's just so exploitative from the jump. But anyways, let's get a bit of context in terms of the origin story of this cult, because that will really help us figure out how the fuck it got so, so damn culty. Yes. To analyze, what biggest loser became, we have to start with what it began as. So let's dive into how the biggest loser came to be. It all started with a quaint little message pinned on a notice board. Save my life, it read. That's a little dramatic. Wow. Someone was looking for a personal

trainer at a gym. When producer David Broome saw this message, he came up with an idea for an American competition reality TV show that would run on NBC from 2004 to 2000. 2016, and then returning once more in 2020 on USA Network. And at its height, this creation drew in an estimated 10 million viewers each week, with 200,000 people a year sending in videotapes or turning up to open casting calls to try and be a part of the show. The show also turned into an immensely profitable weight loss brand, licensing out, cookbooks, fitness DVDs, food storage options, and protein drinks, all of your fitnessy accessories.

It's crazy to me that a. reality show could stem from a problem as deep and urgent and existential as I'm going to die and I need help. Imagine a more culty origin story. I bet a lot of people need help to not die and I bet I could make a lot of money off those people. Exactly. It's so fucking culty. It's like multi-level marketing founders who see people impoverished, lacking opportunity, lacking purpose. And instead of saying, I'm going to put together a community event once a week or something. They're like, I am going to harness this vulnerability for my own capital gain. Oh, yes.

And in the process of doing so, I'm going to make it a big he he-he-ha thing for all of the others to watch. I do imagine like an evil laugh behind the scenes at the biggest loser. Ooh, should we each do our best evil laugh? Can you do one? I really liked the pace of that, like the frequency wave. I tried, yeah. I feel like it wasn't as guttural as it could have been, but I do live in an apartment building.

Oh, okay, that was really, yeah, it's hard to, it's hard to be a villain when you have neighbors. That's why villains need to live in a big mansion so they can laugh with abandon. A big commune in the middle of nowhere. Exactly. Okay, let me try to do my evil laugh real quick. that was like spirit animatronic level like I feel oh my god I just pressed a button and you did that that was brilliant but yeah he's laughing that laugh and he's cracking and measuring tape like a whip like I can see it in my brain so the basic premise of this Mr. Beastie and monstrosity is that

contestants compete for a cash prize by losing the highest percentage of their body weight relative to their initial starting point. This involves daily extreme workouts, often exercising on as little food intake as 800 calories a day. Of course, you need the classic reality TV fodder of getting yelled at. For Biggest Loser, that's often by personal trainers, Jillian Michaels and Bob Harper,

leaving contestants crying, collapsing, hyperventilating, and vomiting repeatedly into color-coded buckets. So Brian Benson, who was crowned the biggest loser, at the end of the show's first season, told the New York Times that he had fasted and dehydrated his body to the point where he was urinating blood, which is a probable sign of kidney damage. Demanding that people go on crash diets is actually a pattern in classic cults from, say,

the 70s. And so there's, like, actually a culty precedent for shows like this. Totally. And after each week, there would be a way in where contestants would get voted off for not losing enough weight. Contestants also faced what they would call a temptation. Here's our first bit of culty lingo, a test of quote-unquote willpower. They were asked to risk their weight loss for the chance of a reward.

They call home, cash, or some other unknown prize. The catch was always food, pitted as a forbidden pleasure. This is so culty. Just like the humiliation ritual of it all and like the audience being these awkward, complicit bystanders and participants. Like I really do think that our culture has in part got. and cultier because of reality TV. I mean, look who's sitting in our White House right now. Like, it's easy enough to downplay pop culture and its effects on where politics go, where

cultural values go. But I genuinely think shows like the biggest loser bring out our worst and endorse us to be our worst. And this is like an early example of that. This is also just such a literal cultish. We're isolating you from all of your friends and family members. And in order for like one phone call, you have to dance, monkey dance like we want you to. It's very transactional, which I do think the formulaic nature of reality TV really leans into and encourages. And just like hanging people's loved ones over their head as a commodity or a prize, that deprivation and reward juxtaposition is fucking insane to me what we excuse by going, oh, it's reality TV. How does that make it fine? This is reminding me a lot of top mom.

And the like, if you made it to late enough in this season, they would bring your mom out to you or like all the phone calls always being filmed and instrumentalized too. I feel like very similar. Your human relationships are more distractions or extraneous factors that are separating you from your true desire, which is to be a model or in this case to lose weight. Again, there is a fucking culty precedent for separating people from their loved ones under the guise of, oh, those people aren't good for you. when oftentimes they're actually the only people who are good for you. They aren't good for you or you don't deserve them because you haven't earned them in the eyes of whatever we're making you do. You haven't lost enough weight. You haven't done well enough in this week's challenge to deserve love from other human beings. Oh my God, the culty calculus

of like you are overweight, thus you don't deserve love. Jesus fuck. Like that's what the show said. That's what the biggest loser sells you. And that just goes to show that These challenges they're doing were not only physically demanding and strenuous. There was always an element of humiliation to them. In one episode, contestants had to build a tower of food using just their teeth. Even the camera work conspired in the spectacle, like, shaking to exaggerate the supposed heaviness of their bodies. Just really gross stuff, guys.

And while these challenges are justified in the new Netflix documentary covering the behind the scenes of Biggest Loser Fit for TV, as realistic scenarios that replicate real. life temptations, activist Aubrey Gordon says really these temptations perpetuated fat-phobic myths that fat people cannot be trusted around food, which encourages moralizing judgments from the viewer at home. Shout out Aubrey Gordon, podcaster queen of maintenance phase fame. We admire. We love. We stand. I don't know whenever in real life there is a situation that will replicate you having to build a tower of food using just your teeth. And I think the only situation in which existing as a fat person would bring you humiliation or shame is that.

which is brought upon you by society shaming you. So the Biggest Loser had this like meteoric rise to popularity in the zeitgeist, but then to no surprise, it also had a dramatic downfall. Shockingly, after a while, some of these cracks started to show and people started finding some problems with Biggest Loser. In 2016, a study reported in the New York Times followed 14 former Biggest Loser contestants and found that all but one of them had regained the weight that they'd lost. Their metabolisms had slowed dramatically.

Four were even heavier than when they first joined the show. Who'd have thought that, like, torture is not a very sustainable weight loss method? Literally. So, with this revelation, the illusion of Biggest Loser as a successful incubator for weight loss is beginning to splinter. The show's promise of lasting transformation begins to collapse under its own myth-making. And in all of the adjacent primetime shows, you know, Survivor, the Apprentice, American Idol, The common theme underlying all of them is that any random member of the public could be picked and made exceptional through their own self-determination, irrespective of the structural or economic circumstances that actually wait against them in real life. There were so many problematic reality TV show experiments in those early days, like The Swan, which is a show that has come up on this podcast before it was like a plastic surgery competition show.

And that is not to say that reality TV is any more ethical than what it once was. It just hides its cultishness a little better now. Whereas, like, the biggest loser, the cultishness is baked into the DNA and it's not even ashamed of it. It's like, we're being mean to you and that's funny. Yes, and that's good for you. Think of that, like, classic culty tactic of breaking people down to build them back up. That's what the show was predicated on proudly. Now before we get into our interview with our guest, we do want to sort of analyze the biggest loser through our kind of informal culty rubric culty lens just to paint an even clearer picture of how fucked up in a culty-ass way this reality TV program really was.

So when you think of cult, naturally you might think a group with a charismatic leader. As we know from analyzing groups like in cells and anti-vaxxers, you don't know. need a single charismatic leader in order to run a successful and scare quotes cult, but this show definitely had one. Actually, it had to. And those were the trainers on the show, Jillian Michaels and Bob Harper. Michaels was notorious for telling contestants to keep going unless they, and I quote, fate, puke, or die. It was like the most cult-like CrossFit box culture broadcast to millions and millions of people on television. But what made this even cultier was the emotional whiplash because these trainers would

oscillate between modes of sadism and sympathy. For example, one minute they'd be hurling F-bombs at contestants in the gym. Michaels, and this is a direct quote, said once on the air, it's fun watching other people suffer like that. But then the next day, they'd be more than happy to lend a sympathetic ear, listening in on their team members' most vulnerable struggles, of which there were many, just without any therapy credentials. And that sort of toxic love, hate dynamic feels very, very cult-like to me. And it created a kind of cognitive dissonance for the contestants because these trainers veered

from being objects of almost like devotional admiration, like you're the people who are going to save my life as that original message in the gym said. And sources of humiliation and shame. Within the same sentence, they would be shouting and expressing a pseudo-care. They would say things like, the only reason I'm doing this is because I believe in you so much. And very much like a dangerous cult, like Jonestown or Synanon or Nexium, contestants each came away with a slightly different personal interpretation of this abuse. For example, there was a contestant named Olivia Ward who named her child after her trainer Bob Harper because she felt so transformed by him.

But there were others, like the guests that we're going to talk to today, who later spoke about how the verbal and views they endured was something that they carried with them forever. And that just, like, sense of idealization that the contestants had, but also the viewers, the audience had, and straight up abusive behavior is by far one of the most cult-like elements of this show to me. Oh, yeah. It's like one of those, like, tough love situations where there's,

just no way to justify that that is a good or healthy thing for everyone. And even if it does work for you, it is probably not healthier good for you. It is fascinating that one argument that someone might make against a certain group being culty is that they came away from it with a positive experience. But I interviewed people for cultish who were literally in Jonesdown and Heaven's Gate who said they came away from it with a net positive experience. That doesn't mean it's not a get the fuck out. Yeah, no, like broken clock. That is exactly right. I also think that as a self-protective coping mechanism, sometimes we go through something culty and we tell ourselves a story that it was actually good just so that we don't have to feel like a piece of shit for the rest of our lives.

And so if you like double down that Bob Harper was this transformative, spiritual guide who saved your life, then you don't have to face the fact that you were verbally abused. Exactly. And it's just fascinating, like, how different people metabolize cult experiences differently. All depends on your predisposition to cultiness. And speaking on your predispositions to cultiness, Jillian Michaels just has a very large one. Not only is she one of the leaders of the biggest loser cult, but she has also been named the defining voice of the Make America Healthy Again era by the New York Times. She was even photographed last year hiking with anti-vaxxer Rth K Jr. Oh my God, what a culty crossover. I wonder if she was loki like,

Hi Carter, you motherfucker. And I bet he loved that. Now, speaking of the relationship between Jillian Michaels and how people talk, there was an incredible culture of silencing within the biggest loser. And the Netflix docu-series highlights this. So as you can imagine, contestants were forced to sign NDAs. And in the docu-series, one contestant recalls, reading through and thinking, you know what, I'm not qualified to make judgments about this document. I need an attorney. But the show's response, okay, sure. Yeah, we can get you a lawyer, but just so you know, we have a whole slew of other people waiting to claim your spot on the show. So if you want to move forward, just please sign and move on, which is obviously so coercive. An NDA is a gag order.

Like, if you don't know what you're signing, I mean, it can just be a recipe for a disaster. Oh my God, I remember watching this documentary and the moment when I, I was like, oh my God, we absolutely need to do an episode on this was when someone was talking about how a reporter started contacting former contestants to interview them about their experience on the show, at which time a Biggest Loser producer sent an email to many former contestants reminding them that there would be, quote, serious consequences if anyone talked to reporters without the show's permission. I remember one of the lines that they mentioned the producers repeating frequently on the show

was something along the lines of like, if you speak out against. the show will sue you and your children and your children's children and your children's children. It was so haunting. I don't understand how you make a show like this and don't expect to get sued a little bit. Literally. And the culture of silencing literally knew no bounds because there was a resident doctor on the show, on The Biggest Loser, who I guess was hired to, I don't know, like cover the producer's asses while sort of like casually ensuring that none of the contestants died. His name was Dr. Robert Huzanga. He said in the Netflix documentary that there were certain physically dangerous challenges on the show that contestants were forced to go through that he didn't

even know about and that there was health advice and health supplements given to contestants without his knowledge. I think one of the scandals was that contestants were plied with caffeine so that they could keep going. Like, it was just the cultiest fucking thing. I mean, when you go down this rubric, it's like, wow, check, check, motherfucking check. Yeah, that feels very culty along the lines of like maybe nexium or kundalini where it's like even the higher-ups who are in charge of carrying out some of the dirty work aren't fully privy to everything happening and aren't even privy to their own actions a lot of the time. And as if Biggest Loser couldn't get any cultier, the land itself upon which these horrors

took place has its own cult-related history. The Californian ranch where the show was set and shot was originally built for Razor Magnate King C. Gillette of Gillette Razor fame. Duh. And it was then home to an extreme new religious movement, the 1980s, Church Universal Triumphant, where its leader Elizabeth Clare Prophet believe that she received instructions from many of folk, including Merlin the Magician, Jesus of course, and Christopher Columbus. All the good ones. More interestingly, the faith's essential goal is to purify the self in preparation for the ascension into the divine realms. Of course. Oh my God. Yeah. Love that mission statement.

Now, a question that frequently comes up on this show and in cult analysis in general is why do people join? When you are literally seeing people get tortured on screen, when the show is straight up titled The Biggest Loser, when you check in with how people are doing two years after the show and they've gained all the weight back and aren't necessarily the success story that the show promises they would be, what on earth would motivate recruit? roots to want to join. And I think this speaks to a very, very culty element of the biggest loser as well, which was this harnessing of the narrative of being chosen and being

redeemed. Basically, the biggest loser managed to capture a redemption arc. Producers would go after contestants who had the most to gain from this experience. Some might call them desperate. I'm not comfortable using that language. I would say it was less desperation and more a combination of need and optimism. Because you can be desperate but also have no hope. But if you have hope and charisma and resources and a lot of need to actually improve your health, that is the type of person that the show was ready to exploit. Also, you need a kind of optimism that like even though there were all these failed examples of contestants, you could be the one who really stuck with the change. But at the same time, the producers wanted to cast

those who they could tease transformation out of. And in order to be a good candidate for transformation, you have to start in a position of vulnerability. One of the producers, J.D. Roth admitted, we were not looking for people who were overweight and happy. We were looking for people who were overweight and unhappy. So this idea of being special or chosen by these producers to be fixed, to have your life improved amid hundreds of thousands of hopefuls and up to 200,000 auditioned each year left contestants describing it as, quote, winning the lottery, lucky, singled out, and destined for transformation. And that promise of being fixed or having your life changed ran through everything that the contestants were told

throughout their experience so that if they have doubts, they would be quelled. Lines like there's an athlete inside of you were shouted while they exercised alongside messages that fatness was something that could be purified through redemptive control. So it really does echo a lot the more explicitly religious purification language that Americans were conditioned to internalize from the birth of this nation, just wrapped up in reality TV language and aesthetics. Yeah, I would be intrigued to see the overlap in phrasing and in, I guess, just kind of tactic between something like Biggest Loser and Gwen Chamberl and Laura and The Way Down Workshop, because I feel like there's probably a lot of overlap here.

A hundred percent. I mean, there's a reason why. cults like this thrive in America. It's because we're a culture of self-help. And the biggest loser is like self-help on steroids on television. We got a lot of systemic issues, not a lot of real solutions for them, but a lot of things to sell you so you can try to fix how it impacts you personally. Literally. So we have done our warm up. Ladies and gents and gays and days, it is time for cardio. Joining us today, we are so excited to welcome Tracy Eukich-Lane, a season 8th contestant on The Biggest Loser who opened up about her experience on the show

in that very same Netflix documentary that we've been referencing Fit for TV. Stay tuned for after the break for our interview with Ms. Tracy. Hey, weirdos, I'm Elena. And I'm Ash, and we are the host of Morbid Podcast. Each week we dive into the dark and fascinating world of true crime, spooky history, and the unexplained.

From infamous killers and unsolved mysteries to haunted places and strange legends, we cover it all with research, empathy, humor, and a few creative expletives. It's smart, it's spooky, and it's just the right amount of weird. Two new episodes drop every week, and there's even a bonus once a month. Find us wherever you listen to podcasts. Yay! Woo! Ay!

Yay! Yay! Joining us today, we are so excited to welcome Tracy Ucich Lane, a season 8 contestant on The Biggest Loser, who opened up about her experience on the show in this year's Netflix documentary Fit for TV. Tracy, welcome and thank you so much for joining us. Thank you for having me. I appreciate it. I was intrigued when I received your email, so thank you. Could you tell us a little bit more about that intrigue? Because before we started recording, you mentioned that you'd grown up religious, that you have a different relationship to faith and

belonging than you did as a child and that you have sort of particular feelings about this word cult, which is important for us to address as often as possible on the show. So if you could kind of tell us about your own personal feelings toward it, that would be amazing for our listeners to hear. When I received your email, I read it and then I go, huh, am I supposed to be aligned with the name? Because I will be honest with you, the name like scared me when it said cult. Because I I thought immediately, I'm like, what would my mother think? And would she listen to it? Probably not. But what if someone else did? And they knew me because there's always that speculation about religion and cult and things like that. And I actually know a friend who was in a cult. So I've never

looked at it the way that you presented it until I kept reading. And then I dug into you a little bit Amanda and I looked at your book a little bit. And I dug in a little bit more about what you actually are doing. And I go, wow, this really does align. Okay. I could do this. But I really did sit down and think about it. It is such a charged word. And our, relationship to belonging and community and belief and power as Americans has so much to do with that. But it is important to express skepticism when we call the biggest loser a cult or Disney adults a cult or The Real Housewives a cult because everyone does orient themselves around that term differently and it is used in so many different contexts these days, sometimes really

sensational context, sometimes joking context. And the whole point of this show, in addition to be entertaining is just to highlight that we're all susceptible to this kind of thinking and manipulation these days when we need answers and we need salvation and we need belonging. And so thank you for getting on board with us with a wink and with a sense of openness. I'm glad that we're on the same page with that. So thank you. Okay. So just to kick us off here, could you tell us a little bit about what brought you to the biggest loser? I was a 37-year-old mother of four children. I had absolutely felt like I had lost myself and I was in complete survival mode all the time. I had just gained weight after pregnancy after pregnancy and the stress of life. And I just felt like I needed

something to reclaim my help, my life, my confidence. I was just felt like I was constantly buried in responsibility of being a parent and being a wife that I just didn't know actually who I was. And that television show obviously was on TV and I used to DVR it and watch it later after everyone was asleep and I would eat ice cream and watch. And I'm like, oh, my gosh, they're working out and exercising. And I never thought of it as something that I could do until that desperate commercial came on on Saturday. And it was, you know, Alison Sweeney, do you want to be on the next big as loser? And then realizing that the casting call is the next day. So it was like that split moment decision. And that's exactly how it happened. I showed up

for a casting call on a Sunday. Their recruitment tactics are so cult-like. I mean, you, you sounded like you were the perfect candidate for them, which feels inherently exploitative on their part. Well, I hear you when you say that, but I do know that obese people are constantly looking for something to feel like they belong. And they're also looking for that like, like that rope of hope. So I hear you when you say that. But at the same time, when you are obese and you are in survival mode, you will do anything to make a change. And that's exactly where I was. So, yes, of course I was a perfect candidate. But there were also 200,000 other candidates. There were also the perfect candidate. It's just, who are you going to choose?

Yeah, that's so true. And I think there's really something to, like you mentioned, the casting call being the next day, the urgency. I think there's a real predation on impulse there, too. It was just like the perfect time that I needed something. I needed that rope and I needed that hope. And so I showed up and I took a chance. I realized the following and all the things and I've never looked at it or thought of it that way. I am one of those people because I followed. I wanted that hope. I wanted that survival. And it's the same with a lot of reality TV. It's like how much can you take? What can you do? Are you willing to put yourself out there? And somebody is willing to put themselves out there. Somebody is. I am that person. I put myself out there for America to see.

And don't get me wrong. I thought about that too. Can I really get on television in a tube top and spandex shorts? Can I do that with all my glory? So in Netflix's Fit for TV, you discuss how the biggest loser kind of positioned you as a contestant that was difficult, and that's why you were voted off the show. Before we started recording, you talked a little bit about some of the negative media spin that you were at the receiving end of. Do you think that the show had a problem with figures who challenged authority or disrupted some kind of invisible order that they were trying to enforce? I was not a combative person at all. I was outspoken. I was curious, but I was also blindly following rules. In every show, you're going to find that hero. You're going to

find that villain. You're going to find that redemption arc person. I never went on to the biggest loser expecting to play the game. I never went on there expecting anything else other than being myself. And if you go back and watch the show, I never talked about about anybody. I didn't do anything villainous to be ugly to anyone either. I completely took care of myself and my partner, Coach Mo. It was just, when I look back now, it was so easy to villainize me because I played and because I actually put myself first. And that's the really tough part to like swallow. is I was very uncomfortable while I was there, and I had to play in order to take care of myself. But there is a sense of obedience and hierarchy and preferred compliance over, you know, critical

thinking. And people absolutely always questioned, you know, what kind of system is she a part of? Why is she doing this? Why is she doing that? And I will say my other contestants really did think that I was difficult and that I was discerning. But I wasn't. We say difficult. The difficulty was me trying to figure out how in the heck I can stay here. That was the difficult part and knowing that everyone else wanted me to go because they knew that I wasn't going to conform to everything that everyone else had going on. Everyone was in the gym and working out and following Bob and Jillian around and, you know, it was like this, oh, holy other now. And I was like, no, I'm not doing that because that's not safe. Remember, I almost died on the beach the first day. I'm not doing that. And I also had Dr. Hisinga,

who is a medical doctor who I 100% completely trusted. And Sandy Crum, who was the athletic, director on the show 100% saved my life. He hadn't have been there that day. I would absolutely be dead. I trusted them. And they gave me strict protocols of what I could and what I couldn't do. And I stuck to it. And let me tell you, it pissed everybody off. Whoa. So that compliance hierarchy is real and even production. They're like, well, you know, you could do this. And I'm like, no, I'm not. They weren't filming me going, I don't think that's a good idea. Because I was actually very meek and very mild. And that was outspoken then as I am now. I was very complacent. I was just that Southern woman. That's who they cast it. Well, let me tell you,

when I almost died, you actually loitly created a beast. Because from that moving on, I'm like, I am going to take care of me. And nobody else matters here because I almost died. For them to villainize you for that when the premise of the show is self-improvement and you are already doing, as we've said, like such a vulnerable thing. I was killing it when I was there. And the way they made it look on the show, if you go back and watch, they made it look like I never worked out. I was lazy. I wasn't. I was none of those things. Everyone else was in the gym. I am in the pool swimming like Nemo for hours, for hours. Maybe I had to hire someone just to watch me to make sure I didn't drown. So you were just doing it your way and that was... It wasn't my way. It was the medical. It was the medical way. Right, right. Sorry. I was following. I didn't even know how to work out. I didn't know how to do any of those things. I grew up in dance and baton and playing softball. We never went in the gym and worked out. I didn't even know how to pick up a weight and do all that. I didn't even know what reps were and all that. So I was falling completely. direction as to what the athletic trainer and the medical doctor said, not Bob and Jillian.

Totally. Fitness and weight loss are such an underrated category for cults to thrive in because your literal bodily survival is at stake underneath all of the glamour and the promises and the fospirational mantras. It's like in CrossFit, you could literally go into kidney failure and die. But like, you're not thinking about that when someone is screaming beast mode in your face. It's funny you said that because after the biggest loser, I actually went through CrossFit because I craved it. And then I realize I'm like, I'm going to get hurt. I need to move. And I love CrossFit.

Don't get me wrong. I just think there's a better method of how to throw a bunch of people in exercise. The cognitive dissonance of cults, you know? You never looked at it like that until I got your email. Now I see things in a different way. Oh, man. I really do. Okay.

So I would love if you could take us back, Tracy, to the culture of the ranch. Could you describe the atmosphere there? Like, what were some of the group dynamics that you observed among your other contestants, their relationships to the rules, the trainers? Like, I want to get the feeling of being there. I felt like it was a constant push and pull of control. And I had that feeling as well where I needed to have control. Control for me.

But I also felt like there was a level of control around food, language, emotion. We were isolated from the world. We had no phones, no news, no family contact. It's like every part of your day was completely monitored, measured, and filmed. So it wasn't just about weight loss. It was also surrendering your autonomy. And so over time, you just get that feeling of, you know, you're in a controlled group environment.

There's power. There's identity. Who's in charge? Who's going to do better than you? And so control is the issue, yes. And I'm trying to gain control for myself. And then you also had that vulnerability of you don't know what's going to happen. That's fear.

You have to be vulnerable because you're obese. and you want to change your life and then you have to have courage because you've got to figure out how you're going to do that. But courage and vulnerability are like equal marks. And then when fear sets in, you are going to do crazy things. That's what they called it. Crazy. I did nothing crazy other than keep myself there. Oh my God. An undertone of misogyny is ever present through all of this and through so many cult-like groups in general. But it bears repeating that like this was the early days of reality TV. So I feel like sometimes nowadays reality TV can contestants will kind of sign a slightly more knowing deal with the devil, knowing that, you know,

they might undergo this like temporary pain, but they might become an influencer later. And if that's what they want, then there's like a slightly more conscious transaction going on there. But it sounds like when you signed up for this, that transactionality was not necessarily in your mind. It was not, but I will say this. I felt like at home I didn't have any control. I was married before and I was in an abusive relationship. And then it was the first time my life that actually had control and it was just for me and no one was telling me what to do. I had to make decisions for myself. But then at the same time, you go back to my roots and where I came from, my religious family and my ex-husband. I was constantly being told what to do. It's the

first time in my absolute entire life that I had 100% control over me. And let me tell you, that is a scary place to be. And I had to really stand on my own two feet and it was really hard. But just to add one more thing about that environment, I'm so thankful for that environment as well. And I'll tell you white. I actually was able to witness other men living in the house who were real men who love their wives, who cherish their families, who were extremely kind to me as a woman. And I looked around and I'm like, wow, okay, I see you, Danny. I see you how much you live your wife. I see you, Rudy. I see you, Coach Mo. It was a beautiful thing to witness. And it changed my mind about good people in the world. I'm so glad you mentioned that because if cults, in scare quotes, were 100% bad,

no one would join, no one would stay. There's always something positive, or there tends to be something positive to gain. And that's why people keep going. That's why you can cope, you know, later on, because there were positive things. What I'm hearing and what I see often is that Colts can kind of provide an alternative, seemingly healthier form of structure that at first looks like freedom. for those who are predisposed to already be in, like, highly structured environments. Like, hence, a lot of Mormon women joining MLMs. If you're in one cult, it's pretty likely that you'll join another one.

And I am wondering a little bit more about what that alternative structure looked like in the day-to-day life. Like, what small daily rituals or rules, weigh-ins, challenges, morning routines, specific language? What kind of aspects of your experience started to structure your life? how quickly did they begin to feel like non-negotiable norms? I was really sick when I was there. And that's what also people watching did not know. But it also felt like everyone was on this, even myself, it's like, oh my gosh, I've got this great opportunity to really do something different with my life and change my life.

And I felt like that gratitude had to almost cover your pain. And so it's like, oh, well, you need to lose more weight than I do. So therefore, you should be grateful that you even got to come. but you're not as much as need as someone else is in need. I remember those conversations about need and want. And it's almost like we had to explain ourselves. And something I never did is I never talked about my home life. I never talked about how miserable I was at home in my own marriage.

I never talked about my ex-husband. I never talked about what was going on in my home. For one, I was embarrassed. And I didn't want anybody to know. And I also didn't want anyone to know how sick I was because I wanted to remain competitive. So I felt like I had to show gratitude over pain. And that was really hard to do to be thankful. If that makes any sense.

And it's almost like the harder that you're pushed and the more that you're supposed to thank the trainers or that your suffering equals transformation. And that's where I was struggling. I had already suffered. I was suffering every single day. But I didn't tell anybody. I remember I had to choose who was going to weigh in or something. And everyone made me feel like because of the way I chose that I didn't put people's value or they're suffering that they, why they came there.

Why did you come? What was your why? and because your story is better than so-and-so else's, then you deserve more. So it was suffering over transformation. It was hard to digest that and swallow that. When really what I was doing is I was just like, okay, what's your percentage of weight loss? Okay, all right, you're first. You're next.

And that's the way I did it. Yeah. But on TV, they made it look like, oh, she's unhinged. But there's also this emotional script as well that went on about praise, cry, collapse. What is your ritual? how does your pain equal your worth? And we actually rewire ourselves to think that way. And it's also how we view our own body and our own self-worth. Pain does not equal worth at all. Nor does obesity equal value in this world. It just doesn't. Wow. There's so much cultishness going on here.

First of all, having to show up to this place and immediately figure out the nonsensical logic, the calculus of this universe. How disorienting. And then also what you're saying, I mean, Growing up in America in general, like I feel like a lot of us internalized microscopic versions of the cult rhetoric that you were taught. Even going to a regular neighborhood workout class, people will say things like no pain, no gain. Or in work culture, people will quote unquote stress brag. The more stressed you are, the more worthy you are. These are all sort of cult-like thought patterns that infiltrate our daily lives. But when you were on The Ranch, which by the way, I keep thinking like, oh my God, they called it the ranch just like the Manson family.

I'm just like your experience on The Ranch was just like all of that rhetoric X one million. And I want to talk more about some of those lasting effects that you just mentioned. Many former contestants have described extreme physical and psychological consequences after leaving the show. Did you experience any long-term effects on your identity, health, or sense of agency once you return to post-bigest loser life? Yeah, actually both physical and psychological. Physically, having a healthy relationship with food and exercise was really hard when I came home. And it took me years to kind of untangle my self-worth from a number on the scale and applause from others and how to turn this pain into purpose. And then also, I was on a platform and I was on a speaking tour and I got to speak about my experience.

And I'm trying to advocate. I'm trying to be compassionate. it. I also feel for obesity because I was an obese person and then living in that body and not realizing like, oh my gosh, I lost a lot of weight, but why didn't I not feel good about myself? And people are watching and they're looking at me and they're inspired by what I did. But yet my daughter made a whole pack of brownies to take to school when she, you know, when you take snacks to school. And I hate the entire thing in the middle of the night while she was sleeping. I had to go make some more so that she woke up in the morning. She wouldn't realize that they were gone. So that was a my aha moment of you are a binge eater, Tracy, and you have a awful relationship with food. You also

have an awful relationship with exercise because you're still getting up at 4 o'clock in the morning and you're still trying to do three days to maintain this weight loss and it's not feasible. It's not sustainable for anyone. But I will say for two, almost three years after the show was over, I continued that rhetoric until I like dug deep and got some therapy and okay, you're a binge eater, Tracy. You cannot keep up with this workout or this lifestyle. Not only are you harming yourself, but you're harming everything around you because you're so focused on trying to maintain something that you physically are not going to be able to. So you've got to find a balance and you've got to figure it out and you better to do it quickly. And so yeah, it was,

it was hard just coming home and realizing that there is a battle of having a healthy relationship with yourself. And also I was 100% trying to keep my private life at home private. I was trying not for anybody to find out what was going on and what I was dealing with at home. I was going through a divorce and I was just trying to have these beautiful children look good going to church and these beautiful children, you know, going to school and their mom is just on a television show and I'm on a billboard, you know, on I-35 in Dallas, Texas. I would go to the grocery store and I would see people looking at me and I felt like, are they looking at what's in my grocery cart? Because I have lucky terms of my kids. Oh my God. But that just and going out to eat

was hard because I felt like, all right, I need to make sure the waiter knows that I want salmon with no butter and nothing on it and just completely dry and I better get a veg, what if someone's here and they take my picture and then they posted? I felt that pressure of people watching and they're inspired by what I did and now I'm going to disappoint them by what I'm doing. And it is a mind scramble. That's unbelievably heavy to carry for them to instrumental as your relationship with food and turn it into like entertainment fodder. And I'm also thinking a lot about with what you just said, it's very, again, misogynistic of the show to reward those who were more up front with their trauma, it sounds like, because I feel like, again, that is something that women, especially women in like high control environments, we are socialized to internalize all of our pain and to absorb it and to treat it as our problem that when you're bringing yourself to a competition setting, like you said, in your brain, you're like, I don't want that to interfere. But in that setting, when it becomes commodified, it's twisted.

I will say, I chose to be there. I didn't know the circle of how things I knew that I wanted to change. And I know that there's a following. I was the follower. I'm still thankful that I was there. A lot of survivors of cults from Scientology to Soul Cycle will say the same thing. That platform, the opportunity, the people that I met. But I understand.

I get the vibe with the show and I know it. And it's probably another reason. why I never joined. Well, I did. I actually joined the Beach Body. And then I look around and I'm like, I'm just getting right back into where I was. I'm not doing this again. And so I pulled myself back. I drank the shake. And then I'm like, you know, my stomach doesn't feel that good. Maybe you shouldn't be drinking that. So you look at it in a different perspective, but I was thankful that I was there. I'm thankful the people I met. But I will say, it was easy to make me a villain because I was smart with how I did things. Oh my God. I would be villainized in two seconds under similar circumstances.

did not mean for me though. I didn't know. Of course. I had no idea. I was just there to do a job for myself. Yes. So many of the people that I interviewed for cultish said nobody joins a cult. Nobody signs up to be abused psychologically, physically, et cetera. You join an opportunity to change your life, to change the world. And when the producers or the higher-ups, the cult leaders have a different idea in mind, that's not your fault. How could you have known? Speaking of the cult leaders at hand. We have a couple more questions for you. First of all, we would like to hear just a little bit more about the relationships on Biggest Loser between the contestants and the trainers. Wondering if you ever felt kind of a leader worship dynamic or dependency or maybe like loss of some kind of critical

distance that you would see reflected in other cult environments. This is a very big question. I'm not here to disparage anyone because that's not who I am. But without question, trainers were absolutely a part of performance. And producers controlling the narrative, of course, but there is an absolute dynamic that's blurred. The trainers held such incredible power of humiliation, praise, a storyline for the week. And even myself, who was someone who did not work out with them on a regular basis, you wanted their approval because it equaled like almost survival of the show. And yes, there was a hero worship mentality and a belief that the trainer's going to save you. And looking back, because I look back a lot, there's absolutely not a day

that goes by with 17 years that I don't think about my time that I was on the show. Whoa, that's a huge statement. True. It was so life-changing. J.D. Roth said in an interview, and I was there, you'll always have your life before the biggest loser, and then you'll have your life after the biggest loser. That is the truest statement that has ever come out of his mouth. But looking back, there's also this dangerous ground that keeps your internal motivation and your external validation and a constant spinning will and you're constantly seeking validation. So even when Bob and Gillian were on the ranch and I wasn't, they would come on just for filming. That was it. They weren't there any other time to conversate or get to know you. It was all within the camera. They want

all this interaction with the camera. So I wasn't working out with them. I wasn't combative with Gillian. I was just firm with what I was going to do. The same with Bob. They would ask me questions and I'm like, well, I don't know. We'll see. And you can go back and watch and it. They ask me questions. I'm like, well, I'll have to wait for the doctor to get here. And they didn't like that. And it was just easy to villainize me because of that. But when they did come in, let me tell you all, the amount of anxiety that I had was so off the chart. I felt my heart and my throat.

I would be nauseous. I almost felt panicky, just walking up to the ranch area because I knew there was going to be an exchange of some sort. And I knew that what I was going to say was not going to please them. But there was this mentality of approval. and it equaled survivorship. I mean, it equaled you to survive on the show. And it was a hero worship mentality. It really was. So did you not actually exercise with Bob and Jillian as much as the show made it seem like you did? I did one workout with Gillian and it was not filmed. I did that in Washington, D.C. And I had no doctors there. Dr. Heisinga was not there. I don't think Sandy was there either.

I was just cleared to be able to work out with the trainers. And Gillian was like this all day. Like, I could just see her. She was just like, I can't wait to get her. I can't wait to get her. And I made such a mistake during that time that I look back now and I really regret it because I wish I would have said no. But I was also in that space of wanting their approval, wanting to be connected to the group. I knew what they were saying behind my back. I knew what was going on. I mean, I can tell you how I know. Do we tell you? Yeah. Tell us. I got a screwdriver from the media guy. And I went in the laundry room and drilled a hole from the laundry room to the training room and I heard all the conversation.

Oh my God, you're like a prisoner like, you know, like coming up with schemes. I was like jawshanked redemption. I was drilling. And I didn't learn anything that wasn't already kind of known. And that old saying of what other people say about you as none of your business is so true. Because all it did was just hurt me more. It's a very true statement. But there is that worship mentality and I did have anxiety going to the gym. And I still have anxiety when I go to the jump. I really do. Every day. I think I probably have a couple of recordings on TikTok because I was going to tell America about that anxiety that I have, but I formally haven't done it yet because it means I'm putting myself out there again. But I have exercise anxiety. So bad. The irony of all

of this. Like the show did the opposite. But I love to exercise. And I'm thankful that I have that tool in my pocket. And I'm thankful that I know how to do it. And I feel comfortable going in the door. And I do have a trainer. And I absolutely value and love him. And he knows why I have anxiety. And I walk in the door and he's like, how you doing? And I'm like, I'm good. He's like, do you have anxiety? Yes. And within 10 minutes, it's gone. I don't know if it's from walking in the gym and all that happening. I don't know if it's from the accident that I had on the beach and doing exercise. But my therapist is like, you have exercise anxiety. And then she's like, one day you're going to wake up and you're not going to have it. And I was like, well, it's been 17 years. Do you think it happened? Can you just like put a little bit on it? It makes me panicky. I have those same feelings of when Gillian was rolling her eyes at me or screaming at me. And that, you know, you know, that's something else as well. That style of training, I came from abuse, okay? I came from yelling and screaming. You can't say anything that's going to hurt me anymore than what I've already gone through. So if you think you're going to come to me and that's going to work, it's not. It's completely out of body. I've completely tuned you out. Yeah, yeah. Even Joelle mentioned that where she felt

this out of body experience. I felt like that every single day. I just had to just tune it out because I already came from that world. So that's yelling and screaming and being mad at me. It was already a part of my life. You're not helping it. You're actually hurting it. I'm so glad that you're surrounded by people who are supportive and can help you along this deconstruction journey, you know? Like how nice to live in a time.

You know, there are obviously side effects of mental health terminology becoming so popular on TikTok and the rest. But how nice that we're living in a time when you can go into a personal training session and your trainer has the language of like, do you have anxiety today? Like, how is your mental health today? and have a therapist and being able to, like, work through those things in a safe environment is so helpful for listeners to hear, including those who've only ever, say, had a cult experience in, like, a corporate job and also those who are surviving fundamentalist Mormonism, you know,

like, it's so important to hear that there is, like, hope and goodness on the other side. There absolutely is. And it also takes a lot of work, a lot of self-work. I want to watch that fitness show where it's just people being healthily encouraged by mental health professionals and medical professionals to attain their goals in healthy, sustainable fashions, but that's not good for ratings. Wait, but it might be. It might be. I think it would be in today's day and age.

The Great British Bake Off is a wholesome, drama-free, and very, very highly rated show. It is. I love that show, by the way. And I love when he goes in and he's like, oh, the sponge is nice. I love it. I know. What if we could do the Great British Bake Off for literally anything reality TV? Literally anything. Like, what if everyone was just nice to each other and we filmed it?

Well, Dr. Hezegov didn't say, on the documentary, can't have a show about weight loss and it be safe. That's an incredibly culty quote. Yeah, it is. And speaking of that, we have one final question for you, and then we're going to get into a little game. So, we've talked a little bit about Biggest Lizar. We've hinted at other fitness-related cults like CrossFit. There are obviously a bazillion and one different fitness cults that one can join if they so desire. For viewers who really loved Biggest Loser, but haven't really ever thought about its possible cult-like dynamics, what are some of those red flags that you now see in other fitness groups that people can start looking for to identify a healthy environment versus one that's a little too coldly for comfort?

That's a really good question as far as like the patterns go with fitness and other like wellness spaces. You know, I did talk about the loss of autonomy, you know, personal choices are replaced with group rules and guru approval. When it comes to the medical community and obesity, I do know and 100% have seen the disparage that goes on for people that are obese. And we need health care equity. And obesity is health care. And it should be viewed that way. And there should be more respect for people in general. I speak on that. I'm going to continue to speak on that. I'm going to continue to be an advocate for obesity, flying, going places, health care. G. L.L. you ones, like, whatever it is that you want, you should be seen, heard and valued in all

spaces. Going back to your question on like the patterns and what to recognize, especially in fitness and wellness spaces, is shame as motivation. Your guilt does not need to inspire for change or be toxic at all. And if it is, you need to move into a different space and you need to find somebody else. Remember, when you hire someone to help you, they work for you. And if you're not happy or if you have that inner feeling of, I don't feel good about this, that gut is actually talking to you, listen to your gut. Your gut is your red flag. So that is an absolute driver. Guilt or humiliation are not to be used as inspire for change. It is absolutely toxic. False belonging is another when acceptance depends on your compliance or your appearance

instead of absolute mutual respect. Thank you so much for sharing those. I feel like you could be like a fourth co-host on the show. You get it. Now we want to transition into playing a lighthearted and cheeky game. We're going to play a fun little game called culty quotes. We are going to give you a quote, and you are going to have to guess whether we are quoting a cult leader or a fitness instructor. Number one. A bad day for your ego is a great day for your soul. I'm Harper.

It was Jillian. You were close. Oh my God. Wow. I love the specific guess. You were correct. It was a trainer, but it happened to be Jillian. You know what?

It was. Okay. I'm trying to remember all of the little things that are on the wall. Okay, next one. Was the following said by a fitness trainer or a cult leader? I want to help you discover the best version of yourself, a version you didn't even know existed. That's definitely a cult. That was a fitness trainer.

Kayla, it's seen us. She's like a cult followed influencer trainer, girlie. Next quote, you would be amazed how much action anyone is. capable of. There's probably a cult. Yes. That was Elron Hubbard, the founder of Scientology. Oh.

Your body is not the real you. It's just the physical house you live in. It actually could be both. It really could be. I'm probably going to say it's a fitness trainer, though, but it really could be both. Ah, that one was the founder of the Children of God cult, David Berg. Oh, okay. But yeah, very close.

It is very close. I might not win this. You've already won. I mean, you're doing really well. I think you'll need miss that one. Okay, next. Yoga is the fountain of youth. It's definitely fitness.

That one's ball-marper. That was so easy. Well done. Okay. Penultimate quote, pain is not bad. It's good. It teaches you things. Fitness.

I fear that was actually Charles Manson. It was. It just shows you how worldly I am. I don't even know. Well, I was going to say it shows you how culty the fitness industry is. that that's straight up a Charles Manson quote, and you were so ready to be like, oh, yeah, I heard that at the gym last week. Like, I feel like I heard that at like a beachbody conference or something.

I'm sure you did. Last quote. You know when transformation happens right now. It's a present activity. It's a present activity. Oh, I think that's a cult. That was good old Jillian Michaels. Shut up.

Are you serious? Can you say that again? I can hear that again. That just shows you how much I pay attention to her. You know when transformation happens right now? It's a present activity. Whatever. Exactly.

Oh my God. Lesson of the episode. Truly. Tracy, thank you so much for joining this episode of Sounds Like a Colt. If people want to keep up with you and your wisdom and your journey now post The Biggest Loser, where can they do that? You can definitely find me on social media. I'm on TikTok.

I'm on Facebook. I'm on Instagram. I have a website that's coming out. It's just my name, Tracy Eukich Lane. I've been invited to do a TED Talk. So I'm working on that right now. now with a coach. I'm pretty excited about that. It's about bringing your story out into a different light. Well, congratulations on everything. What a survivor you are. And yeah, have a beautiful

rest of your day. Thank you. Thanks. into. I'm going to say get the fuck out. Hot take. Don't take medical pseudoscientific advice from the television. Literally, don't take medical advice from someone with bleached tips in 2025. Yeah, no. This is maybe the cultiest reality TV show that we've ever covered in sounds like a cult history because it's putting people in physical danger beyond America's ex-top model, beyond the real housewives. Like, It's tapping into something so deep and shameful in the American lifestyle and just exploiting that beyond comprehension. It's a get the fuck out.

It is because it's so like, we're allowed to be sadistic and watching this show because these people consented and signed up for it, which just feels like the absolute pinnacle of reality TV. It feels like the cold taste it gets. Yeah, I'm just so disturbed by all of these reality shows giving the public license to dehumanize and mistreat others in a culty way. And the biggest loser is that to a T. Biggest loser. I don't want to

know her. Got to be a loser to watch it. Just kidding. I don't like the word loser. I really don't. Yeah. Like I get it. Because it's like, you know, you lost weight. But it's like you're a loser because you're fat. No. No. I detest. Well, anyway, don't watch that. And that is our show.

Thank you so much for listening. Stick around for a new cult next week. But in the meantime, stay culty. But not too. Kiltie. Sounds like a cult was created by Amanda Montel and edited by Jordan Moore of the Podcabin. This episode was hosted by Amanda Montel and Reese Oliver. This episode was produced by Reese Oliver.

Our managing producer is Katie Epperson. Our theme music is by Casey Cole. If you enjoyed the show, we'd really appreciate it if you could leave it five stars on Spotify or Apple Podcasts. It really helps the show. lot and if you like this podcast feel free to check out my book cultish the language of fanaticism which inspired the show you might also enjoy my other books the age of magical overthinking notes on modern irrationality and word slut a feminist guide to taking back the english language thanks as well to our network studio 71 and be sure to follow the sounds like a cult cult on

for all the discourse at sounds like a cult pod or support us on patreon to listen to the show ad free at patreon.com slash sounds like a cult