Being fat is hard. Being fat on TV is probably harder.
Still, I had to see for myself, so this past August I made the half-hour drive from Allen, Texas, to Dallas to audition for NBC’s The Biggest Loser.
For anyone unfamiliar with the show, a bunch of fat people sweat for the camera to see who can lose the most weight, with elements of Survivor thrown in: people cry, compete in challenges, earn rewards, get eliminated and sweat some more. It’s Celebrity Fit Club minus the celebrities, plus more humiliation (did anyone see last week’s episode where they put them in a room full of food?).
Let’s get one thing straight first – I am both a fan and a scholar of reality television. I took Professor Mimi White’s course on the subject in spring 2007, stood strong as the only one who reveled in the magic that was Armed and Famous, and sat in the bitter cold at Soldier Field for 24 hours to audition for American Idol.
I’m also not quite as fat as most people on the show. With a BMI of 29, I’m barely considered “not obese”; Biggest Loser contestants are decidedly in the realm of “I shouldn’t stare, but damn” when they walk down the street. While in line, some of my fellow reality TV hopefuls jokingly-but-not-really told me that I should get out of line and amuse myself with free magnets and raffles at the Visions Women’s Expo going on in the other half of the Dallas Market Hall. But I stuck to my guns. I had brought a blanket and packed a lunch, and I wasn’t going anywhere until the producers got a load of me! Besides, normal-to-thick in real life equals fat on TV, I told myself. I could totally be on this show.
I’d say there were a good 400 people ahead of me in line, minus the occasional skinny friend offering support. This was already different than the Idol audition line. For one thing, it was inside. For another, there were way fewer people. Finally, in terms of line quality, I will say that fat people are more fun to chill with than wannabe singers. Maybe it’s because there were more benevolent middle-aged parents and fewer glittery 17-year-olds. As I recall the line, I tell myself to be thankful that my weight is distributed semi-evenly, as opposed to having a huge belly and no ass.
After waiting for five hours I finally made it in. Twelve of us sat around a table with a producer at the head. He had us go around and say our names, how old we were, what our job was and how much weight we wanted to lose. Then he said things about “having a dialogue” and talking about our “hopes and fears” and psychobabble crap like that. It felt condescending, and I felt bad for the earnest people at my table who were doing this for the right reasons and who probably wouldn’t get picked because they weren’t saying anything we haven’t all heard a billion times before on Maury.
After about 10 minutes we were set free, but not before the producer guy told us to send in a tape if we wanted a better chance. Whaaa?? Then what did I wake up early and drive to Dallas for?
And so it was over.
Two things stuck in my mind. The first thing was two ladies, trying out as a team, who dressed up in body bags and held up signs with such slogans as “On the Fast Track to the Toe Tag Two-Step!” Not only is it really hard to read “toe” and “two” together in a sentence, it’s like saying, “Haha, we’re morbidly obese and we need serious help. Haha, get it??” I hope we see this on TV next season so you’ll know I’m not lying.
The other wonderful memory was that during my tryout everyone at the table was female except for one transgendered individual. Female to male, no less. He wanted to lose weight so he could get chest surgery. If he doesn’t make it on the show, I don’t know what the producers are smoking.
I try out for reality shows just so I can say I did it, to have that interesting anecdote to pull out at cocktail parties. Ostensibly, I really would have liked to have been on the show, for help with these last 30 pounds I intend to lose by the summer (60 pounds on my official application, for dramatic flair).
But maybe this was all, on some level, just a way to feel better about how far I’ve already come in terms of weight loss. It made me thankful that something inside of me awoke and made me change my own life almost a year ago. And it made me even more motivated to continue. Added bonus: I can’t wait to see if anyone I befriended that day becomes the next Biggest Loser!