In Which We Convince Our Friend To Try Alli

The pharmaceutical industry is sort of like women's magazines: staffed by blandly attractive people, determined to make you feel bad about yourself, and brimming with new ways to stop you from being fat! Unlike women's magazines, however, Big Pharma has come up with a few weight loss ideas that actually work, which is why have learned to sit back in consent as it decimates the American health care system. With that in mind, welcome to our first installment of 'Pillhead', in which a real connoisseur reports on this exciting field and tries not to crap her pants in the process.

Hi, I'm Pillhead. I have a special bad doctor who prescribes me whatever I want. My Duane Reade pharmacist knows me by name. And I'm going to tell you all about drugs.
The first drug the 'bel's asked me to write about isn't prescription-only, though. It's the brand new over-the-counter diet drug Alli. When the Jezebel ladies ask you to take Alli and write about it, you forget the implicit insult, chalk it up to your reputation for journalistic courage, and check out the message boards. At least that's what I did. And they scared the living fuck out of me.

Some basics about Alli, if you've missed the huge marketing campaign:

  • It's the first FDA approved over-the-counter diet drug.
  • It became available late last week at drugstores and online.
  • It works by keeping some of the fat you eat in each meal from being digested.
  • It costs $60 a month, which depending on your situation is generally cheaper than Adderall.
  • If you take it with a meal that has too much fat, ORANGE OIL COMES CASCADING OUT OF YOUR ASS IN A RIVER DOWN YOUR LEG AND INTO YOUR BOYFRIEND'S FACE.

    Okay, that's not exactly what the marketing materials say, but they do suggest that you wear dark pants.

    The makers of Alli call the side effects of taking an Alli pill and then going crazy with a Bloomin' Onion "treatment effects". The message board posters more cleverly call it an "Alli-oops". I call it "IM-ing Moe and saying "Oh my god I can't do this. What are you making me do? I can't do this!"

    A survey of the "personal experiences" board yields mostly callouts to join groups (40 Year Olds, Brides-to-Be, People Who Live in New Jersey) and most of the posters seem to have not yet experienced any of the dreaded "treatment effects". But then there are the posts like these that I'm praying were written by pranksters:

    I Can't Believe I Just **** All Over Myself!

    Oh god.

    As a husband, just want to clue you in on a request....when you head to the ladies room, by all means turn the fan on. Something is indeed needed to mask the ungodly sounds emanating from the toilet. It sort of takes away the mystery, the romance if you will of a romantic interlude. Plus, the kids find it hysterical...I have even had my 11 year old record mom's tunes and has created a digitalized version with her actual sound samples (and god knows there were plenty!). Just a heads up ladies, turn the fan on, or even better wait until no one is home to start your syphmony.

    I took a picture of what came out of me today (gross, I know, but the people need to know), but I don't know how to load it. The water in the toilet actually had grease floating on the surface...a lot of it!

    All of which adds up to "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!", but I am willing, gentle reader, to try Alli for one week and report back, Slutmachine TMI style. Mostly because I'm getting paid. And not planning to eat any fat of any kind. You're welcome!

    But don't worry, no pictures.