Don’t fall for the Tai Chi Chair Challenge hype

From time to time, I like to call out the bullshit I see advertised on YouTube and similar platforms. The weight loss ads in particular trigger me. What gets me is to know that people fall for it (if you see an advert a lot, it usually means the campaign is lucrative).

A while back, we were bombarded with the Pink Salt Trick recipe, promoted using AI-generated celebrity impersonations. I wrote about the phenomenon in, The dark side of online income: how scammers are using AI and social media to make millions.

The basic idea was that scammers borrow the same marketing techniques used by legitimate companies, then supercharge them with AI-generated footage, fake testimonials and fabricated success stories to sell snake oil.

Lately, it’s the Tai Chi Chair Challenge. You can’t escape it, it’s everywhere.

Invariably, some shredded, six-pack, topless Asian “master” of sorts promotes his programme alongside an obese middle-aged man, complete with before, after and halfway transformation shots. This guy supposedly goes from a huge beer belly to a V-shaped six-pack in three weeks flat.

And, invariably, you hear the same script:
“After one week you’ll feel it… After two weeks you’ll see it… After a month, you’re wife won’t believe the results…”

It’s the same old formula, recycled yet again: get fit in no time with almost no effort. Here’s the shortcut. Here’s the miracle you’ve been waiting for.

Now don’t get me wrong. If you’re unfit, almost any exercise is better than none. Tai Chi has genuine benefits. It can improve balance, mobility and coordination, and may help some people with arthritis symptoms.

That said, it doesn’t outperform resistance training when it comes to preserving muscle, building strength or maintaining bone density as we get older.

A few screenshots from the AI-generated ads trying to persuade you to subscribe to their Chair Tai Chi app.

I know it’s hard to believe, but ten minutes of chair Tai Chi a day won’t turn an obese middle-aged man with a hanging belly into a ripped athlete.

After doing it consistently for months, it might turn him into an obese middle-aged man with a hanging belly, who’s a little fitter, has slightly better balance and moves a little more comfortably.

The people selling you the subscription, on the other hand, may well end up considerably richer.

Imagine a company spends US$30,000 on YouTube and Facebook ads. If those ads persuade 1,000 people to subscribe to a US$60-a-year fitness app, that’s US$60,000 in first-year revenue alone.

If many of those subscribers renew, or pay for additional features, the returns become even more attractive. Suddenly, spending tens or even hundreds of thousands of dollars on advertising makes perfect business sense.

Their claims are carefully worded to avoid making explicit promises, while still leaving you with the unmistakable impression that you’ll become fit.

Consumer protection laws in many countries prohibit misleading advertising. But regulators simply can’t keep up, while social media platforms continue to profit from running the ads.

So what if you’re unfit?

It’s down to what you’re prepared to do. Just accept that there is no shortcut for real fitness. The people who tell you otherwise usually have something to sell.

Here’s what I’m doing at the moment, and it works fine for me:

I walk 3 to 6 km every morning, go to the gym for 45 minutes four or five times a week, and follow an intermittent fasting routine (OMAD: one meal a day, dinner in my case). Plenty of protein, very little sugar, no alcohol, and roughly one dessert a week.

And even if I occasionally lapse, it still works. So far, I’ve been losing about 5 kg a month.

That’s it. No miracle. No ancient secret. Just a routine I can stick to.

And if you’ve already paid for the gym, the rest is free. In fact, if you’re skipping two meals a day, it might even save you money.