Big Mac, Filet-O-Fish, Pocket Full of French Fries

At the beginning of May, I left my job.

I am only 29, but I was plunged into a brief "WHAT THE EFF AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE?" phase.  My almost-mid-life crisis.  Maybe cosmetology school? Write a book? Give up and have a baby?

I decided upon the most obvious of answers--Become a reality tv super star.  Duh.

At the same time, I was starting a new diet (another post, my pretties).  My brain started turning, and because this doesn't happen much, I let it go as far as it wanted.

BAM!

I decided to try out for the Biggest Loser.  I'd be famous AND thin.  I'd probably have my own talk show before I turned 30 (it should be noted that if I if I had my own talk show, I would not have two little British girls jumping around, repeating the highly obnoxious words of Nicki Minaj).

I found out Biggest Loser wase casting in Los Angeles the day after my birthday.  I called my very thin best friend, who loves watching fat people suffer so much that she took the day off from work to join me in the endless line at the cattle casting call.

But hark! After I sent in my "pre-registration", I got an email from someone who works on the show, proclaiming me "adorable", with a note to skip the line and use the attached VIP pass to get right in.   So, the day-long ridiculousness turns into an hour.

Here's what I learned at this casting call:

-Fat people, despite being in line for a show to lose weight, cannot stop themselves. A man selling ice cream from a cart was making a KILLING. I literally saw a girl take a picture with her McDonald's meal.

-No one has a sense of humor.  When I commented to a casting PA that the hallway he'd stuffed 15 of us into for waiting was "really a bad choice for a bunch of fat people," at least 3 people glared at me. Because no knew apparently knew what they were at Biggest Loser casting for.

-There is nothing worse than judging a group (a 700-person group) of chubbies based on their looks and actually going so far as to pick people out of the crowd based on said looks.  People turned on me. Worse, people turned on my poor skinny friend.

Needless to say, I didn't get a call back.  Dream crushed. New, "real" job had. Sigh. Unless, of course, they start the Real, Real World--for unemployed 30-something's.