Shares of Weight Watchers soared almost 100 percent after media magnate and every fallen celebrity’s agony aunt Oprah Winfrey snapped up a 10 percent stake in the company, retaining the option to eat the rest – or, more specifically, acquire an additional five-percent stake – in addition to joining the organization’s board, which presumably doesn’t come with a free lunch.
Weight Watchers International, WWI (not to be confused with WWE, which spotlights battles of a more literal kind), has seen its recruitment levels slump in recent years amid the influx of calorie-crunching mobile apps and fitness trackers, followed religiously by Cross Fit devotees in germ-infested gyms everywhere.
In the spirit of female celebrities intent on expanding their star power into the realm of their fan’s common, everyday lives, the company has adopted a new ethos, announcing plans to increase its brand beyond simply inducing you to decrease the number you see on the scales towards a focus on happier, healthy living.
Winfrey announced plans to purchase nearly 6.4 million shares at Friday’s closing price of $6.79 per share for $43.2 million. For that price, Winfrey’s ego could have swindled a similar ego boost by buying 2,264,349 copies of her book, “What I know for Sure,” available for $18.99 at Target, roughly around the same price as a Family Fill-Up – complete with greasy chicken, sides and biscuits – at KFC.
The share price reaction to Winfrey’s investment and the company’s strategy shift is indicative of the outdated notion that, “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels,” and highlights that many struggling with size issues believe their plight requires more than a fat-free frozen yoghurt diet while sprinting past the adjacent Krispy Kreme store as they check into their local Weight Watchers to strip off for the weekly weigh-in.
Like frat kids at college behaving like they’re guest stars on Girls Gone Wild for three years amid the absence of any parental control, the absence of weekly updates with your fat coach at a Weight Watchers clinic means that Winfrey will act as everyone’s favorite motherly guilt trip, the angelic watchdog on your shoulder slapping your wrist every time you’re considering clicking ‘Add to Bag’ on that two-day old roasted bird at Lucky Chicken on Seamless, whereby the only thing less ‘lucky’ would the contents of your stomach, 12 hours later.
“Weight Watchers has given me the tools to begin to make the lasting shift that I and so many of us who are struggling with weight have longed for,” Winfrey said of the deal, which is supposedly in line with the company’s renewed focus on marketing campaigns that feature ordinary people, such as the ever-so-ordinary Oprah.
The company announced earlier this year that it had canned endorsement deals with celebrities like Jessica Simpson, Jennifer Hudson and Charles Barkley, in favor of ones that focus on regular people, including one involving a new TV spot called “My Butt” that tracked the waxing and waning of one customer’s derriere.
While past brand ambassadors such as Simpson and Hudson have exhibited a penchant for the yoyo diet, Winfrey is expected to help revive sales and earnings through her influence promoting health and lifestyle-related initiatives. Given sales at Weight Watchers, founded in Queens in 1963 by a group of neighbors looking to shed some pounds, have dropped for the past several quarters, Oprah could be a last-ditch attempt to bolster earnings, just in time for her Thanksgiving and holiday Turkey and mashed potatoes feast special, which is sure to max out your Weight Watchers points bank for the next 11 months.
Weight Watchers’ revenue declined 19 percent to $1.48 billion in 2014, from $1.84 billion in 2011, including falling product sales, licensing fees and meeting earnings.
Cropping a few notches off your belt and dropping as many sizes may be the aim of its target clientele, but in the case of the company itself, hopefully Winfrey can add some cash-induced calories to its bottom line, before it becomes as redundant as every 80’s housewive’s second favorite pastime to hosting a Tupperware party.
