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Daily Press Editorial

It would all be so funny, if only people weren’t getting hosed.

GlaxoSmithKline recently trotted out a nonprescription strength version of the drug Orlistat.

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Approved by the FDA, the over the counter pill, called “Alli,” is said to block fat absorption and assist in weight loss. The usual caveat applies: It works in conjunction with diet and exercise. And it costs $60 for a 90-day supply. But it can result in up to 50 percent more weight loss than those components alone!

Oh and, er, there’s side effects, described variously as loose, oily stools that come on quickly, with cramping, or, more colorfully, “anal leakage.”

“It’s probably a smart idea to wear dark pants and bring a change of clothes with you to work,” the drug’s Web site advises.

First of all, yes — Glaxo really said that. And second, the risk is not deterring the people who are snapping up Alli, apparently without considering what “50 percent more” really means.

If you lose 10 pounds without drug intervention, Alli could help you lose five more. The difference, in other words, could be negligible. But a difference that’s a little more important is that the latter approach — diet and exercise — won’t cause you to spontaneously poo yourself.

Glaxo says this nasty side effect can be avoided if dieters just behave themselves and watch fat intake. Oh, and that people must be “committed to losing weight.”

Thus, there is at least one similarity between Alli and traditional fad diets: Failure is the fault of the dieter. It couldn’t possibly be that the drug is harmful, just like it couldn’t possibly be that weight loss actually is a good deal more complicated than calories-in, calories-out. After all, if that simplistic formula were really the answer, why would anyone need Alli?

We’re used to this sort of moralistic stupidity from Big Diet. But we’re beginning to weary of the way people buy into it — and we mean “buy” in every sense of the word.

One woman told Newsweek she sees Alli as “a disciplinarian.”

In other words, it’s punishment in a pill. Never mind that she is an adult and, logically speaking, answerable to no one for what she eats. If she’s not “good,” and obedient to the absurd dictum which states all women shall do whatever it takes to be as small as possible; if she presumes to enjoy a meal without obsessing over its fat content, she “deserves” the side effects.

Oddly enough, we see Alli, not as a disciplinarian, but as a drug.

But the woman is not alone. Newsweek’s piece concludes with a shrill warning about the evils of fat — which it unblinkingly accepts as proof of an unhealthy lifestyle in every case — and suggests perhaps we need the the threat of humiliating accidents to stay in line.

The Chicago Tribune reported chain drug stores couldn’t keep Alli on their shelves and quoted one seemingly bewildered person who said the women (note the gender) buying it weren’t even fat.

One woman told the Trib she’d tried “so many” other pills and potions and was desperate.

Still another self-righteously declared she’d just work out and eat salad.

But isn’t the colloquial definition of insanity trying the same thing over and over, while expecting different results?

Now the clincher: Alli results in an average loss of 10 to 16 pounds. That’s it. And presumably, you would have to keep taking it — which means Glaxo keeps making money.

Further, FDA approval does not necessarily mean a product is free of risk. Recall Fen-phen, another diet drug that was released to great fanfare with the government’s seal of approval. The drug, linked to pulmonary hypertension and valvular heart disease, was later voluntarily pulled from the market.

Oops.

No one has suggested that this sort of risk was a small price to pay for modest weight loss. But many people continue to at least tacitly endorse the idea that nothing can possibly be as bad as being fat. Not even uncontrollable bowel movements.

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