I received the most wonderful e-mail today. One of my friends who knows how much I enjoy The Biggest Loser sent me this link: Biggest Loser Now Casting Season 12 -- along with the news that TBL will be holding an open casting call in Indianapolis on February 26.
"I am SO there," I thought. "Mike and I can go together and we'll pull out all of our fat couple jokes and this will be great!" I was never so happy to be fat, imagining myself sweating buckets in the gym on the Biggest Loser ranch.
Earnestly, I clicked through the interviews with TBL casting directors and former contestants to get tips on how to score a spot on the show. Then I saw it: Contestants must have a minimum of 100 pounds to lose.
That's when I found myself stuck between fat and a flabby place. Ugh! Fat, but not fat enough. I mean, I suppose I could lose 100 pounds, but that would put me at 105 pounds, which I haven't seen since I was 4 years old. Kidding, people, only kidding. I think I weighed that at 8. (Gotcha again.)
I'll wait a minute while you do the math to figure out how much I weigh. I don't mind. It's just a number; like the weather in Indiana, it'll change in 20 minutes.
Now, are you with me? Good. Let's continue...
This is a shot at the Biggest Loser we're talking about, I considered. Days and nights with Bob and Ali. Long conversations with Dr. H. I have until February 26. Oh, the weight I could gain in one short month!
Seriously, that's the kind of sick and twisted thinking that goes on in my head. Fortunately for me -- and my rear end -- almost as soon as the thought of gorging on ice cream entered my brain, so did words like "Fit City," "IN Shape Indiana," and "Weight Watchers."
Oh yes, those things I've already committed myself to in pursuit of a healthier lifestyle and a more fit body. Not to mention the fitness challenge I joined at work, the money I've put into my brother-in-law's Chub Club contest, and the work I'm continuing to do with the American Heart Association. I did just recently make my (not so) triumphant return to the gym. I've seen the scale moving in the downward direction.
Do I really want to throw all that away? Do I really want to feel like I've been stuffed into my own sausage casing skin and have permanent marks on my waist from where my pants were digging in too tightly? Do I even want to think about resurrecting the fat dress?
Sigh...I'd probably hate California anyway.