The messy reality of weight loss

People are willing to put themselves through a lot in the name of losing weight. They'll exercise until they're sweaty and red in the face. They'll try fad diets of all kinds — No bread! Cabbage soup! All pimiento! — as long as someone was persuasive enough to convince a publisher to put out a book about it. They'll even give up having full control of their toilet habits.
I'm basing this last claim on the introduction of something called alli, an over-the-counter diet drug recently given a big thumbs up by the federal Food and Drug Administration. Need proof that it works? That "a" in its name used to be an upper case letter.
According to the drug's web site (www.myalli.com, which, strangely, doesn't come up anywhere on the first page of a Google search), alli works by preventing your body from absorbing about a quarter of the fat you eat. That's the good news. The bad news, also according to the web site, is that using alli has a tendency to hinder a person's ability to control his or her bowels. Among the side effects listed: loose stools and "more frequent stools that may be hard to control" and gas with "oily spotting"
Oily spotting? So, I'll lose weight but my undershorts could end up looking like the paper towel you blot the bacon with?
Clearly this drug works. I'm losing weight just reading about it.
The drug's web site is full of useful instructions. For example: "You may not usually get gassy, but it's a possibility when you take alli. The bathroom is really the best place to go when that happens."
In other words, get somewhere nobody can see, hear or smell you, and fast.
The site also warns: "Until you have a sense of any treatment effects, it's probably a smart idea to wear dark pants, and bring a change of clothes with you to work."
I don't know about you, but when a drug makers make suggestions about wardrobe I start to get nervous.
Also, eww!
On the bright side, alli sounds perfect for anyone interested in reliving those diaper-wearing days of their childhood.
According to Fox News the FDA has dismissed claims from a group called the Public Citizens' Health Research Group that alli causes colon cancer. Honestly, though, I'm starting to feel like cancer is alli's most pleasant possible side effect.
The alli diet isn't just about popping pills and soiling yourself, though. Like any good diet these days there's a book that goes with it. According to promotional material, the book — called The alli Diet Plan — is a "doctor-designed plan to make the most of this blockbuster product's extraordinary potential." Presumably it includes helpful advice like, "Eat less fat and there's less chance you'll mess yourself when you least expect it." Or maybe, "Sure, dark pants are a good idea. But might I also recommend rubber shorts? They're hot and they bunch but they're totally worth it!"
Reports from users of the drug seem mixed. The web site Medical News Today shared a sampling of e-mails from its readers. Some were positive: "It is the only thing that has worked for my very obese patients who did not want surgery" or "If you stick to a low fat diet it works really well." Some were more neutral: "It cannot replace exercise and a good diet."
And others? Well, they were ... um ... discouraging? Unsettling? Queasifying? I don't know. You pick the adjective: "The drug forced me to avoid fatty foods if I wanted to keep my underwear clean. I lost a lot of weight." Or, "I had to give up as my underwear was soiled all the time."
The bottom line? alli might be great for the size of that bottom, not so much for the clothing you use to cover it.