Reading fitness/makeover/workout books is a lot like going to church or paying a visit to Grand & Toy. They are all experiences that draw their appeal from the illusion of human perfectibility. They exist to sustain a belief that we really can get our lives (or, in the case of religion, our afterlives) together – if only we had the right filing system. The right DayTimer. The right body of beliefs. Or, most dramatically in contemporary North American culture, the right body. “Look good. Feel good” – those are the promises these books make to a nation of fatties who long ago gave up any commitment to a project that might actually improve their own lot and that of others: being good. That, however, requires one to look beyond the self – and for something other than the happiness of being envied.

You won’t find advice on that in these books. We are talking the religion of personal improvement here, and these are the Bibles. They even steal the good book’s structure – there’s always a Genesis (“how I came to write this book”), always a Fall (“how I ballooned to a size 16 after my first pregnancy”), always a time in the desert (“I just kept getting fatter”), always a burning bush (“I picked up this magazine/saw this TV show/met this person”), and always, always, paradise regained. Which, you have to admit, puts them one up on the Bible, which requires you to die before you get all its promised good stuff.

They’re one up on the Bible in terms of simplicity of message, too. In fact, I can give the whole thing to you right here. It goes like this: eat sensible meals, avoiding fats in particular; exercise regularly. That’s it. Rather like what your mother told you, though mother neglected to turn it into a multi-million-dollar publishing industry.

At least mine did. Others, however, have been smarter. And it usually is mothers – this is very much a gender-oriented industry. There are girl books and boy books but, as usual when it comes to piety, the women outnumber the men. And they have become particularly inventive in the elaboration of sectarian diversions that make possible yet one more volume of exegesis.

Take Joyce L. Vedral, PhD. She’s the author of a good half-dozen, with titles like Bottoms Up! and Gut Busters and has released almost as many videos. I’ve checked out two of her books – 1991’s The Fat-Burning Workout, and her most recent, Definition. I’m guessing that her academic background (that PhD is in English literature) accounts for the handy index in both volumes – a useful feature not commonly found in this genre. Vedral’s sectarian take on the body biz is very time-oriented – “from fat to firm in 24 days” is one promise; “shape without bulk in 15 minutes a day!” is another. Other aspects of the Vedral cult include giant, super-giant, and monster sets, the “true pyramid system,” “wonder woman” routines and “dragon lady” routines, plus the usual nutritional advice, testimonials, and go-for-it coach talk.

Kathy Smith is not so prolific an author as Vedral, though she’s been a fitness expert for more than 12 years and has 20 fitness videos to her credit. She is also a fitness correspondent for NBC’s Today show and, back in 1994, introduced America to walking, though she called it Walkfit, and trademarked it. Kathy Smith’s Walkfit for a Better Body is the book that came out of it, and since there’s not a lot you can say about walking, except “do it,” we get a considerable amount of padding here, along with, again, the inspirationals and the diatribe against fat. Her upcoming book, Kathy Smith’s Fitness Makeover, adopts something of the Vedralian time obsession (this is a “10-week guide to exercise and nutrition that will change your life”), but Smithians add “focus” and a Grand-&-Toyian commitment to log-keeping (each day of each of the 10 weeks gets its own full-page chart to fill in). That makes it a different sect.

On the boy side, we have Bob Paris’s 1993 book, Flawless, and for boys who like boys, we get pictures not only of Mr. Paris, but of Mr. Paris’s now-ex-beau, Rod Jackson. Sect-wise, there’s a Vedralian touch here too (this is the “10-week, total image method…”), and a whiff of Smithism in the insistence that the reader produce a written contract with himself, detailing his commitment, and that he read it at least twice a day. I think Paris is after something of a high-Anglican tone (the book begins with a quote from Goethe), but there are new-age concessions here too, mostly involving “visualization” (“Picture your flawless body standing on top of a beautiful pedestal”), which seems to be an important feature of Parisism. The book has an index, adequate photographs, and charts.

There’s a church near the Toronto airport that guides its congregation to rapture through laughter. That seems also to be a significant aspect of Wendybarbism, the theology animating Armed and Dangerous: Fit, Firm and Ready to Fight. We like a light touch, and authors Wendy Buckland and Barb Nicoll maintain a breezy tone throughout.

Armed and Dangerous relies heavily on the personal testimony of its two authors (Wendy in particular has had a tough life, and has dealt nobly with its trials), and their very ordinariness (just a couple of gals from Burlington) makes them ingratiating guides to the land of wellness. They’re also smart enough to realize that (as they put it), “The fitness industry needs overweight people the way the FBI needs criminals…Without your money, they’re broke.” This oughtn’t to make one cynical about the nationally distributed low-fat food line they’ve introduced – I could never understand the fuss over selling indulgences either. I’ve tested a few of the recipes in this book and, if the products are anything like, I can tell you that they’re low-fat and delicious. The book is indexed, and has a shopping guide too.

So – in the sectarian shopping mall, do we opt for Wendybarbism? Give Vedralism the nod? Find salvation in Parisism? Truth is, it’s just like churches – it doesn’t much matter which you choose. The essential message is so simple (eat properly and exercise regularly) that doctrinal variations become merely a matter of taste, hype, or fashion. One can even take an ecumenical approach – committing oneself to a Vedralian 15-minutes-a-day, for example, while opting for a Wendybarbian diet. Variety is important – I’ve been working out regularly for more than 20 years, and reviewing these books gave me the opportunity to freshen my somewhat stale routine.

All of these books can work. They can, as in my case, perk up a dull routine. They can make you thinner. They might make you more beautiful. Don’t, however, forget the inherent risk – you won’t necessarily be any happier, since happiness is more a byproduct of being good than looking good.