I remember the day I went to the Biggest Loser open casting call like it was yesterday. It was at the Hard Rock Cafe in downtown Dallas. Driving from Fort Worth, about 30 miles away, I thought for a moment that maybe, just maybe, I was one of only 27 people who knew about it. Then I got to the Hard Rock and saw the line around the block. There were easily 1,000 people there. Mostly women. Over the next three hours, I really got to know the people near me in line. A few people really stood out from the crowd, either because they were fascinating, beautiful or completely obnoxious. I took a pizza. Not a real one. A paper one. At the time, I was teaching a high school life skills class. It just so happened that our class was making personality pizzas, with each slice representing some aspect of their life: hobbies, favorite foods, favorite movies, holiday traditions, unique personality traits, etc. The night before the casting call, I was carefully decorating paper pizza slices and pasting them into a real pizza box.  

The Biggest Loser scouts took us 10 at a time to tables inside the restaurant. It was amazing to see the transformation that took place once the line moved inside. What was a mass of shivering, desperate, highly-competitive hopefuls immediately turned into shiny and happy once we crossed the threshold.  It was like everyone just stepped off the Happy Happy Cult caravan. Or like watching the talent competition at a Miss Plus Size America. Unfortunately, three hours of standing in the cold in a line with 1,000 other people all hoping for the same opportunity had rendered me unable to fake much enthusiasm. And my pizza was wilting. Finally the talent scout, a nice guy with Chiclet-white teeth, got to me. I opened my pizza box and showed him my paper pepperoni pizza slices. I thought I detected a glimmer of piqued interest in his eye, and he asked me a few questions. I wanted to ask him where he got his Chiclet teeth because I wanted some of my very own. But honestly...at that point, I just wanted to get out of there. You know what's worse than trying to have a conversation over the decibel level at the Hard Rock Cafe? Competing with 1,000 chubsters talking about how they can't wait to slip into a bubble bath, a relationship and a pair of skinny jeans at a decibel level 20 times higher than that.

Around 1:00, the interviews were over. I can't remember what I did between 1:00 and the time I got on the freeway to head for home eight hours later. But I can still remember driving down the Interstate 75 in Dallas when I got the call from Mr. Chiclet himself, wanting to arrange a second interview with me the following day. OK...let me tell you, NEVER in a million years did I think I was gonna get a call back. So I had the techno cranked to deafening when I finally noticed I had a voicemail. I almost ran off the road when I heard the voice on the other end tell me he wanted me to call him back ASAP. And ASAP I did, about 150 times. No answer. NO ANSWER?!?! (I left a message, of course.) To make a long story short, I did get the second interview. And a third...in a hotel room with a camera crew and two Biggest Loser producers, also with Chiclet teeth, at the Wyndham Anatole in Dallas. Just walking on the marble floors of that grand hotel with nothing but hope that my life was about to change in a huge way was the euphoric equivalent to what I imagined an acid trip would feel like. Everything was clearer and crisper. Colors were brighter. I heard every little sound like it was in THX.

PS...I didn't get to be on Biggest Loser. They contacted me a fourth time to ask me to send an audition tape to the producers in L.A. I asked my friend, Melinda G., a professional videographer, to capture every ridiculous moment. In involved eating at my favorite restaurant (Orlando's), car dancing, rolling down a grassy hill, and visiting a steam room, among other things. And that was the last I heard from Biggest Loser.

But here's the thing. It didn't matter. Looking back now, it really didn't. That feeling...that acid trip of hope and happiness...I couldn't just go back to a life of mediocrity after having felt that. I couldn't go back to fat and frumpy. Or to a job I dreaded going to every day. So I moved to Los Angeles anyway, lost 60 pounds, and worked in the film industry for a couple of years.

I think that's what we all crave. Deep down inside, we're all waiting for that moment. That moment when every second is alive and full of hope and on the verge of life-changing. It's the feeling you get when you know something big is just around the corner. The zephyr of change. And so tonight, let's make a toast. A toast to all the moments that remind us we're alive...really alive. Salud!     

Comments

[Nancy]

Do you still have that video? I would pay big bucks to see you rolling down a grassy hill.

[Mr. Peligro]

Well assuming it was in Texas it wasn't so much a grassy hill but a "Grassy Knoll"......Hmmmmm! Anyway I'd like to see that too!