Bernie, my favorite loser, got voted off The Biggest Loser last night.  In very related news, I’ve absolutely lost my grip on reality TV.

I don’t know what changed in me when the Clash of the Choirs came on TV, but it’s like something snapped.  I literally can not watch more than fifteen seconds of reality TV these days without tearing up.  First it was Clash of the Choirs with all their lovely, down-home, real-life people and all their color coordinated outfits.  At first, I thought it was making me cry because they were all in the choirs, and all the music reminded me of church music, which has always had a strange way of making me weepy.

Then came Dance Wars with all those kids! Kids! And their dying grandmas and lifelong dreams and their beaming smiles! I loved all of those kids! Every time there was an elimination I would cry, and every time that Bruno and Carrie Ann would tell them how wonderful they were, I would cry some more.  I even cried because of Drew Lachey’s poor hosting skills.  I had no church-related excuses, no real reason.  I wasn’t bemoaning my lost dreams of being a dancer, or even my dream of maybe having some rhythm for that matter.  That show just provoked tears in me like I never thought possible.

But last night–last night is when I realized that my estrogen might be at new, absurdly high levels.  Zack and I have been half-way watching The Biggest Loser this season.  (Side note: nothing makes me feel like a bigger slob than sitting on the couch eating dinner while watching a dozen people shed pounds by the hundreds.)  I’ve (apparently) become rather attached to some of the characters, even though I generally only catch about the last 15 minutes of the show.  Last night, Zack and I were hanging out in the living room when it came time for elimination .  Bernie, a very sweet and gentle guy in his 20′s, sacrifically gave his immunity to his partner, and then wound up getting voted off the show.  Post vote, his (all female) teammates were all crying together, and I lost it.  I teared up and started crying for Bernie, too.  Zack looked at me like, “Seriously? Are you really crying cause Bernie got voted off? We don’t even watch this show.”  I responded to his look by saying, “I really kinda liked Bernie,” trying hard to make my voice sound more stable, and less like a dying Beagle.

I truly can’t help it.  I’ve been telling myself since the show aired that I cry when people get eliminated from that show because I want them to stay until they’ve lost all their weight, because I want them to be healthy. (And possibly so they can do some sit-ups for me.)  But now, looking at my recent track record with reality TV shows, it’s becoming clear that I am just insane.