Perhaps you've noticed by now, but we've been abusing Intern Molly. So far we've made her watch the season premieres of ASSSSCAT: Improv and The O.C. so you, our readers, could stay hip to today's pop culture without suffering through these shows on your own.

And we were about to let her rest her tired eyes and bruised soul but then, well, we realized we weren't about to let Caroline Rhea ruin one of our nights! So once again we enlisted the staunch standpoints of Intern Molly to report on the premiere of The Biggest Loser, NBC's veritable fat camp that awards the person with the best scheming abilities an even fatter $250,000 check.

Begins Intern Molly:

Last night’s premiere of NBC’s The Biggest Loser seemed a serendipitous coincidence. I mean, what better time than Fashion Week to premiere a show that, at its base level, is about how much fun it is to taunt overweight people?

More fat people (but no fat actresses, at least the professional kind) after the jump.

Last night’s premiere of NBC’s The Biggest Loser seemed a serendipitous coincidence. I mean, what better time than Fashion Week to premiere a show that, at its base level, is about how much fun it is to taunt overweight people?

Try all you want, and try it does, to convince us that it’s a Positive Body Image show and that it’s all about working “from the inside, out”, but The Biggest Loser is an American Idol where the talent is how pathetic you can look. It seems that somewhere along the line, people at NBC convinced themselves that they were actually doing someone a service with this show, while conveniently forgetting the beauty of the double entendre in the title—not only will the winner be the person who loses the most weight, but fat people are both literally and figuratively big losers!

During the mandatory opening montage, where we learn slight bits about some of their backgrounds, the contestants are walking up a gigantic hill to the ranch they will be living at. At the top, however, Caroline Rhea is waiting to welcome them, and usher them into the most demeaning ten minutes of television I possibly have ever seen. I am talking, of course, about the Final Meal Room of Junk Food.

Aside from the fact that probably any group of people would enter this room, be full of awe, eat some, and then feel guilty, the viewer is supposed to be shocked by how grotesque and animalistic these competitors are acting. It would seem that the show’s creators are deliberately trying to make these people look like dogs, rather than just showing a group of people having some fun before the buckle down and work. The only bit of hilarity here comes when contestant Suzanne literally licks the fondue tower. Not gross, awesome.

It doesn’t get any less painful from there. We have the first weigh-in, complete with dramatic sound effects and embarrassed faces. We meet the trainers (one of whom refers to himself as “America’s Trainer”—sure, guy). We are introduced to the Inspirational Outfit Room and even get to see some of the contestants try and fit into their outfits now. Many tears are shed throughout the episode, at everything from going on a plane for the competition to looking at photos of themselves when they were in better shape (contestant Matt seems to be The Biggest Crier, at least).

This season’s twist is that the teams are men vs. women. This ends up making the final weigh-in confusing because it’s not about how many pounds the contestants lose: It’s all about some sort of body fat percentage. Though the men win the first competition and pull the bigger numbers, the women win the percentage contest. The men almost unanimously vote off Ruben, who “didn’t learn enough about nutrition or teamwork.”

It’s not even the concept of The Biggest Loser that is so appalling. The problem is everything about the actual show. I mean, the confessional room is a room full of candy, for Christ’s sake. Make up your mind, NBC, are you making fun of these people or trying to help? Because all signs point to the former, above the latter.