Not to be ‘Extreme,’ but ...

Look out, Average Joe (and Jane) -- they’re coming to get you.

Remember when the obese, acne-scarred and flat-arched were free to roam this planet in peace? Now, we’re all under scrutiny. Not pretty enough? No problem. Your house in shambles? They’ll fix it. There’s virtually no flaw medical science, fashion experts or a bulldozer can’t patch up in an hour of TV time.

We have “Extreme Makeover,” of course, for those brave enough to admit their teeth frighten people, and “Ambush Makeover” for the poor souls walking our streets blissfully unaware. “Flab to Fab” tries to help the overweight look like the rock star of their dreams.

“Trading Spaces” lets you rip up your neighbor’s so-called living room without fear of imprisonment, while my favorite, “Pimp My Ride,” once featured mechanics installing a chandelier into a young woman’s 1981 Pontiac Trans Am. Pretty cool, but watch your head on those bumps.

Factor in established shows such as “The Swan,” “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy” and “What Not to Wear,” and you’d think we could call it a season. Not quite.

Turns out, we’re only getting started. Last week saw the airing of “Body Challenge: Hollywood,” in which six celebrities try to get back into shape. Among them: Susan Olsen, who played Cindy on “The Brady Bunch” (what happened -- Marcia out of town?), Charlene Tilton and Erik Estrada.

If that’s not upsetting enough, just look at some of the new titles on TV’s “makeover menu” this fall:

“Renovate My Family”: Dad overweight? Mom manic-depressive? Well, let’s leave my childhood out of it. Here’s a show that promises to whip your entire dysfunctional clan into shape.

“I Hate My Job”: This has nothing to do with the current coach of the Clippers. It’s actually the Rev. Al Sharpton helping people find the career they always wanted. Just curious -- where does the Rev. Sharpton work?

It’s obvious we’re in the midst of makeover madness. To make sure no one misses out, I propose setting up an “appearance poverty line,” under which homely people who couldn’t otherwise afford a makeover might qualify for federal assistance.

“I’m here for my check.”

“Please state your appearance deficiency.”

“Boils.”

“Sign here.”

That’s right. One day we’re all going to be really, really hot. You realize this spells trouble for beauty magazines. Glamour? Vogue? Mademoiselle? Men’s Health? So long.

What’s worse, how will we know who’s good-looking if everyone’s good-looking? Someone’s got to make the rest of us feel better. Honestly, I think TV producers have done excellent work so far. But since I’m a busy bee, I worked out a few makeover ideas that just might blow the roof off the ratings.

“Pimp My Poodle”: Professional animal trainers take one lucky dog, make him a thoroughbred and eventually enter him in the feature race at Santa Anita. The hard part? Finding a very tiny man to serve as the jockey.

“Renovate My Girlfriend”: Professional girlfriend trainers teach your special someone to carefully anticipate your every need. Not that I’ve ever had that problem. Airs right before its companion piece, “My Boyfriend Doesn’t Make Enough Money Writing.”

“Fab to Flab”: Hmmm.... I’m thinking of more than a few rock stars (male and female) who might work well for this one. David Crosby is host.

“What Not to Eat”: You’re chained to a registered dietitian who literally slaps the leftover pizza right out of your hand before you can jam it into the microwave. And that’s just at breakfast.

“I Hate My Hair”: Insert your favorite Donald Trump joke here.

One final suggestion. We’re concentrating too much on looks. We all know that what we truly value in a person goes way beyond appearance. (Otherwise, I’d never get a date.)

No, we need a show that takes a nasty, manipulative, arrogant human being and transforms him or her into a sweet, loving, caring person who’s ready to go out and make the world a better place just by being in it.

That’s right, when it comes to makeovers, plastic surgeons are fine -- but don’t forget the shrink.

Call it: “Pimp My Personality.”

Howard Leff can be contacted at weekend@latimes.com.