Fat Chance Read Free Page B

with a genuine smile, “Kidding aside, I’m Julie Hadden—a stay-at-home mom here in Jacksonville.” And with that, the bell rang.
      
    I dialed Mike’s cell phone number the moment I exited the room. “You’re already done?” he asked. The shock in his voice was undeniable.
    “Yeah,” I admitted. “I’m glad I did it, but it’s pretty much over.” Of course this news came as no surprise to Mike. With each syllable I spoke, I was validating his pipe dream suspicions. We agreed to meet at the food court to grab lunch and chat about the day. Partway through our meal I noticed the casting people walking by. They grinned at me, glanced down at my greasy oversized slice of pizza, and probably fully understood why I needed to audition for their show. “So, it’s really over?” Mike asked, after they’d passed. “You’re done, just like that?”
    I explained that I’d overheard someone in my group of six ask one of the show’s representatives what would happen next. “We’ll contact you if we’re interested,” came the reply.
    The next day, after church, lunch and a long and lovely nap—made possible by my wise husband’s thinking to turn off the phone ringers—my life completely and dramatically changed. It was almost eleven o’clock at night when Mike remembered to turn on the ringers again, and soon after, he noticed that we had six voice mail messages waiting. “Julie!” he shouted moments later. “
The Biggest Loser
people have called six times and want you to audition again. If you don’t contact them by eleven, they’re going to give away your spot!”
    I bounced up and down and squealed like a giddy schoolgirl. And then I took a deep breath and called them back.
FINDING A STORY TO SHARE
    T he casting director’s request was a no-brainer. “We’d like to interview you again,” he said, “but the date we have in mind falls on the Fourth of July. Can you make it?”
    Was he serious? It could have been Christmas and I would have gone.
    July Fourth arrived, and as I entered the appointed hotel room I noticed a single video camera positioned to my right. Despite the small crowd of onlookers, I immediately felt put at ease—both in my surroundings and in my own skin. Amazing what the prospect of real life-change can do for a person.
    Minutes into my discussion with my interviewer, I slipped off my shoes, folded my legs up under me on the couch, shrugged my hands to chin-level as if surrendering all hopes of self-preservation and said, “Ask me anything you want.”
    We got through questions about how my weight affected my sex life, what my friends would think about my being on a reality TV show and what aspects of my body I most disliked. At that point, I pulled off the cardigan portion of my sweater-set and tugged on a flabby underarm. “Well, this, for starters,” I said. Uncharacteristically, I then stood up, twisted into an about-face and jiggled my well-endowed butt. “And I don’t need to clarify why
this
is a problem.”
    Just before I left the room, I was handed a piece of paper by the casting assistant. “Julie, I want you to make a video that shows your struggle in everyday life,” she explained. “Send it to this address, and make sure you write, ‘Attention: Christmas Package,’ on the envelope in big bold print, okay?”
    I knew then that I might have more than a fat chance.
    Who knows how much time elapsed, but eventually, after I had complied with the original request for a video, I received another phone call from someone requesting a second one. “Show us a few more of the realities that you face,” came the instruction.
    My patient husband trailed me with a video camera for two days straight, capturing real life as a large woman. One scene showed me trying to make Noah’s top-bunk bed by standing on the bottom bunk; as soon as I shift my weight to tuck in the sheet, the entire bed almost falls apart. Another scene features me folding clothes. First you see