I am still planning on posting about each of them, but I figure I’ll start with the one that was both asked the most, and the one that will be the most difficult to recount.

So here it is for those of you who were curious: the story of how I was almost a contestant on The Biggest Loser (though it is not nearly as exciting as it sounds.)  I really hope I’m not gonna have NBC on my ass for talking about it, but I’m pretty sure that I’m in the clear after all this time.

I suppose I should start this with a little background. This is pretty much the story that I had to tell a million times during the audition process, so I suppose it is pretty pertinent.

I was never one of those kids who could eat whatever they wanted. I started watching my weight around the age of 10, and even more so when I got more into dance. It wasn’t that I was ever really “big” per se, it just didn’t come as easily to me as it did to others, or at least that’s the way it felt back then. I remember being in dance class and having to wear two piece outfits and feeling completely uncomfortable.

The older I got, the more uncomfortable I was with my body. We had to do monthly weigh-ins at dance, and there was nothing that plagued me more than the thought of gaining a pound or two and having it announced to everyone. Eventually my body image problems escalated into a full-fledged eating disorder. I am not going to go into details now, that might be better fodder for a TMI post, but let’s just say that eventually it got out of hand. Right before college I decided it was time to seek help.

I started out college as a dance major, which meant that I spent a lot of time in front of mirrors. At the same time I was trying to put a stop to my eating disorder, which consequently (and rightly so) made me gain weight. I knew that if I wanted to quit being destructive to myself, I would have to stop spending so much time examining myself.

I quit dance. I pretty much quit exercising altogether. I started eating and held it down. I learned to enjoy life without worrying about food and exercise and what people thought about the way I looked. I drank a lot. I ate horribly because I grew up being a terribly picky eater and really didn’t know any better.

And you know what? I had a fucking blast.

I was conscious, even at the time, that I was gaining weight at a rapid pace, but at the same time- for the first time that I could remember- I was really happy. I found new passions and I met people who didn’t talk obsess about their appearance. I found out that people liked me for more than my appearance.  I am aware now that I switched out one destructive behavior for another, but looking back- I really have no regrets. I don’t think that I’d ever be where I am now without going through that stage. I wish it could have been avoided but it wasn’t, and I’m a better person for it.

My first year after college, things started to get a little more difficult for me. I knew that I had gone to the other extreme, and I knew that I had to do something about it if I wanted to be healthy or if I wanted to live, for that matter. I noticed that people started treating me different because of my size. People can be really mean, and although I usually held my head high and shook it off, it hurt. Bad.

I’m a relatively small person (5’2″, or 5’3″ if you’re looking at my driver’s license) and when I went to the doctor and found out that I had reached 250 lbs I went into shock. I had completely avoided doctors and scales for the last 6 years, and although I knew I was big, I had no idea it was that bad.

I was working as an intern for a local on-line newspaper at the time, and when I learned that The Biggest Loser was holding auditions across from my office, I joked that I should try out. I had never seen the show, (it was only in the second season at the time, but I have still never watched it!!) but most of my friends watched it religiously. With a little encouragement from my closest friends, I decided that “all jokes aside,” this might be a good opportunity for me. After all, I did always want to be on tv (though not necessarily in a sports bra) and I knew that gut wasn’t going to lose itself.

When I walked into the first audition, I really didn’t know what to expect. I had filled out 20 pages of questions about myself, and was told that there would be a group interview. I remember walking into the restaurant (Dave and Busters, of all places) where it was held and being completely overwhelmed by all the… well the extremely large people. The majority of the people there trumped me in size by at least 100 lbs. I waited in line for nearly 3 hours before the first round of interviews.

They finally called my group of about 20 people into the “interview” room and sat us in a circle. I remember  being squished between two people and I was afraid that I wouldn’t be seen. They asked questions to the group and I was intimidated by all the loud, overbearing, (for lack of a better word) people fighting for attention. I didn’t do anything to stand out, I just sat back and waited for them to ask me a question directly, and when I answered I was nervous as hell.

And then after the interview as I was leaving the room, I tripped and fell, taking about 3 chairs down with me. I laughed and said something awkward, I’m sure… but afterward 2 of the casting people started laughing and talked to me a little longer.

A few weeks later I got a call that they were interested, and they asked me to make a video showing a glimpse of my life. I had no idea what to do, how to make a video, or how I should come across. So I got out my huge old camera and basically tried to do just what they asked. I filmed a little bit of my home life, some clips of me rapping at a bar, and made a spoof of an NBC “The More You Know” public service announcement.

After I sent my tape in I didn’t hear anything for another month or so. When I did, they asked me to go for another round of one on one interviews at a local fitness club. During this interview they had me tell my story and wanted me to cry a lot, which usually comes easy to me, but when put on the spot, it was nearly impossible. At one point the even wanted me to “dance” for the camera. I fell during this portion too… Not cool Carissa.

After another month that was full of phone interviews, background checks, and more paperwork- I was asked to go spend a week being sequestered in LA. I had to sign  (what seemed like) a thousand page contract and was not supposed to tell anyone where I was going. I was supposed to pack for 3 months, in case I got cast for the show.

The time I spent in LA turned out to be the most boring week of my life. They put me up in a really nice hotel room, but I wasn’t allowed to talk to any of the other contestants. I couldn’t leave without the accompaniment of one of the production assistants. Other than a 10 hour physical where they did everything but drug test my hair, and a few interviews and psychiatric evaluations- I spent the majority of the time dancing in my room with the air conditioning vent blowing on my hair whilst pretending I was in a music video. I started to convince myself that I wasn’t there for  The Biggest Loser after all, but for a reality show about the crazy things people do when they are trapped in a hotel room.

Every day they sent home more people. The production staff and casting directors all told me that the producers were digging on me, but I had no idea what to really think about any of it. Eventually the last day came around, and I was told that morning that in a few hours they would come to get me to take cast pictures and so I could get my t-shirt.

I waited…

and waited….

Finally, after several hours of pacing I called one of my favorite casting directors to see what was going on. She came up to talk to me in my room and I could tell it wasn’t going to be good. She basically explained that at the last minute they decided to go with another contestant. One of the producers was worried about the stigma that would come with having someone on the show that had previously had an eating disorder. She said that they really liked me and that there was a really good possibility that they would put me on the next season.

And yes, I basically went through the same process a year later… only to be told once again that “my story” wasn’t right for the season. I even got told at one point that if I could find a “bigger person” for the couples edition and make up a story about my relationship with them, that I would for sure get on.

The more this shit drug on, the more angry it made me. I am all about a little cheese and even a little drama, but I wasn’t going to lie on television. I also got sick of fake crying about my situation. I have been through a lot, but while I was a bigger person, I was still happier than I had been when I was sick.

To make a long story short, while the whole experience  pisses the hell out of me…  I still think I owe the majority of my weight loss to the Biggest Loser. After the last audition process, I grew really tired of waiting on someone else to fix my problems for me. I knew that if those people on tv could change their lives and lose  a ton of weight, then I could do it to… with or without Jillian Michaels.

And I have.

People ask me all the time “how I did it.”  I get really nervous every time I see someone that I haven’t seen in years because I know the question is coming. It makes me happy that people have noticed the changes that I’ve made, but I still get really flustered when it is brought up. I am proud at what I’ve achieved, but at the same time it kind of bothers me that it is such a big deal… even though I know it is.  I wish I had some magical answer. I hate when people say that their weight loss was just a result from working out a few times a weak and cutting down on cheese. I also get mad when people assume that I have had some sort of surgery or that I take diet pills.

The truth is, it wasn’t easy. It still isn’t. There are days when I feel weak and want to take the easy way out. There are days when I want to skip the gym. There are days when all I want to do is eat a pound of Reeses Pieces. And there are days that I do fall off the wagon and eat a good amount of Reeses Pieces, though now they are few and far between.

I’ve lost over a hundred pounds the last 2 years and there are times where I will see myself in the mirror and not recognize who I see. I’ve changed on the inside too, but all in all, I’m still the same person. I’ve been at both extremes and sometimes I am confused at where I stand. I still get really annoyed when I hear people making fun of  “fat” people, because in a way, I’m still that person. I can also now talk for hours about how addicting a healthy lifestyle is, and how much it can do for your mental state. I’m not sure I will ever be done with this journey. I don’t think it’s necessarily even a journey of weight loss, so much as it is a journey of figuring out how to make the most out of my life.

And there it is. Thanks for sticking with me throughout this ridiculously long post.  I actually feel better having talked about this, even though I don’t usually do so…. I think I’ll stay away from the serious for a while though. It hurts my head. Happy Humpalicious day people!

I’m one of those people (some of you know all too well) who is likely to break out into song and dance anywhere. It’s not calculated. As soon as I hear a song that I like, I can’t help it. I grab the nearest item to me to use as a microphone, and I let loose, honey.

I really do think that theater camp may have a big something to do with it.You put a kid on stage and tell her to sing,  then tell her it was good, (because every kid in theater camp gets a part)  and after so many times, she really starts to believe it.

Don’t worry, I’ve been set straight since then.  I’m a mediocre very bad singer…. (you can quit telling me now, I get the point!)

I cannot carry a tune. But that doesn’t make me love it any less. I have realized that no matter where you are, it’s all about performance. It’s the emotion you put into it. I truly believe this.

I know there are certain people who don’t appreciate my ability to entertain an audience wherever the setting may be.

My mom, for instance. If you asked her what her most embarrassing moment of her life was, she would probably go into detail about the time she took me to the fabric store. She was right in the middle of discussing comforter material with a group of older ladies, when she she heard me bust out at full volume  with “the only one who could ever reach me, was the son of a preacher man”  from across the store. She acted like she didn’t know me until we were safely back in the car when she scolded me and told me that there would be serious consequences if I ever did that to her again.

I now use public singing as a “friendship test” of sorts. If we’re going to be somewhere together in public, there is a good chance I will I start singing  and it would be really awesome if you would join in, or at least not act like you would rather be on fire than be in my presence. You may be embarrassed at first, but there is nothing more liberating than a group sing a long at a hole in the wall restaurant in the middle of nowhere. (Right? I’m talking to you friends who went to the river! The Journey sing-along in  Health camp? Hells yeah!)

I have made venues out of grocery stores, movie theaters, zoos, and gas stations. But I have found a new favorite.

Parks and trails.

Oh yes. Although they are somewhat lacking an audience, there is really nothing like belting out a song while going on a walk. I discovered it a few years ago when I didn’t have a job and had nothing better to do than to go on 6 mile walks in the middle of the day. For the most part, you’re on your own. You can have your ear buds in, and can listen to any song of your choice. The best part is, there is no noise restraint. Even I know not to exceed a certain volume when indoors.

Even more so, when your out in the wide open, you can take it a step further.

You dance.

Not just a normal dance. You have to just completely let the music take you over, and what happens feels glorious. It started out as something I would do to embarrass my mother when we were on walks together, but now I just can’t help it. I’m talking about no dance that you would do under normal circumstances. I wouldn’t even like to do this type of dance (if you can even call it that) in a one mile vicinity of a mirror. What happens to my body is something truly worse than even the Muppet Babies could pull off. It’s like one of those exercises we do in improv workshops, where you just let the different parts of your body move without really thinking about it. I know I sound like a complete weirdo right now, but just try it when no one is looking, and I think you ‘ll see what I mean.

Tonight my roommates and I decided to go on a walk together. I put my ear buds in and went at my own pace. I started out belting a little Aerosmith, then switched to Death Cab, and made my rounds through Van Morrison and The Smiths. I had just started spastically moving and singing along to Mariah Carey’s “I don’t want A lot For Christmas”  (It’s November this is ok now) when my roommate, Jake, tapped me on the arm to tell me he and Denny were going to take the short route and head home to start dinner.

I usually would have just kept going without a thought, except for today, for the first time in months, it was pitch black at 6:30pm (fucking daylight savings) and the path we were walking on was through a very unlit patch of woods. And there was a giant full moon, which just put me a little on edge. I probably would have just turned around with the roomies, except I couldn’t shake the memory of me eating about 17 tortilla rolls and 10 mini kit-kats at around 4 o’clock on Saturday morning, and I just couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do something to ward of that repercussion.

The following conversation occurred:

CJ: What do  you mean y’all are going home?

Jake: You can come too… we just want to get a head start on the chicken…

CJ: But it’s DARK. I could get raped… or murdered!

Denny: Just keep singing and dancing the way you are now… no one would dare to come near you!

And that, friends, is exactly what I did.  I sung at full volume and spastically danced my way through the woods. It all went well until I came upon a group of skateboarders, one of which I couldn’t see clearly and I thought he was charging at me. I screamed very loudly at him.

I’m not sure which was more scary. Me yelling at a skater boy to fuck off and leave me alone in an extremely high pitched yelp or my approaching them using moves and a pitch my dad couldn’t even come up with.

Either way, I plan on continuing my tour through the woods, but only once I’ve purchased some high quality pepper spray.

I’m still trying to figure out blogging, more specifically WordPress, and I finally started my site’s makeover last night. Tell me what you think! It still needs a few adjustments, but I have to give a huge thanks you to my friend L.A. for the header, and my roommate D.  for helping me with the technical side of things. As soon as I figure out how, I will put up one of those blog roll thingies with all of your sites on it. I’m also apparently in dire need of a RSS feed button, so if anyone has any input on how to do so, please let me know! I’m completely in the dark about all this technological bull crap!

OK. I’m done with my moment of sap.

Now for what I really want to talk about today.

Women do not go to sleep nor wake up looking like they are about to go to freaking prom!!!

Movies have always had a way of misrepresenting women. I can overlook most of these stereotypes, but this one in particular is really starting to get on my frickin nerves!!!

Women in film always go to sleep in pretty gowns. They swoop their hair up and pin it into place, where it stays put all night long. Their just applied makeup never smears to make them look like a zombie raccoon. And they never have to put zit cream on their face or retainers on their teeth.

I feel it is my duty to disclose to any of you men who might be reading this, who have constantly been disappointed with the way your partners look when they go to sleep, or even more so, when they wake up. If you’re searching for a lady that looks like a “lady” 24 hours a day. You are shit out of luck.

I’m sure there are some exceptions out there. There are probably some women who brush their hair  fifty strokes before they go to sleep. There are probably some women who go to sleep in their makeup and somehow manage to wake up without looking like Johnny Depp in Edward Scissorhands. And I am positive that there are some women who go out and purchase nice teddies and silk gowns to sleep in, especially in the beginning of a relationship.

As for me-most of my sleep clothes are stained, bleached, and belong in the trashcan.

My favorite sleep attire is actually a mustard yellow sweatshirt that goes down to my knees, and I have been wearing it since I was in the 3rd grade. The 3rd freakin grade. Back then it was a pretty yellow sweat dress that went down to my ankles. These days, I have chewed holes for my thumbs to go through, and there are spots on it that I do not want to identify. It has been washed so many times that it’s practically paper thin. It’s almost to the point where I’m afraid to sleep in it for fear that it will tear if I make a sudden movement.

Other choice nighties include a pair of my sister’s old shorts paired with my “I love Dinosaurs” t-shirt (L.A. said she had the same shorts in fifth grade,) my NSYNC concert tee with a pair of thin paint-covered cut- off pants (my mother has thrown these away at least 7 times but I refuse to give them up,) and an old black ankle length gown that must have been one of my mother’s maternity gowns- because it is a size XXL.

I have taken to showering before I go to sleep so that I don’t have to hassle with blow drying my hair. For this reason, I usually wake up looking like something that has recently been electrocuted.

I really try to be consistent about washing my face and taking off my makeup, but I will admit that I sometimes leave this task for the morning. This sometimes causes me to wake up and literally scare myself.

I have to admit though, that every once in a while… probably about once a month, I let those damn movie stereotypes get the best of me. I feel a little stir in my stomach and I want to feel like Claudette Colbert in “It Happened one Night,” or Audrey Hepburn in every movie she ever made. Even though I’m single and don’t have anyone I’m trying to impress, I sometimes want to pull out the silk nighty that is stuffed at the bottom of my underwear drawer. I blow dry my hair and will even go to the trouble of straightening it, while looking at myself in the mirror and singing Bye Bye Birdie’s “How lovely to Be a Woman.” I prance to my perfectly made bed and fluff  up the pillow before I put my night shades over my pristine face.

But only every once in a while.

Last year for Halloween, I went as Regan MacNeil from the Exorcist.

Which is pretty much what I look like most days upon waking up.

-My friends have started to get gray hairs (or no hairs)  and I’m scared shitless that it’s only a matter of time for me to as well.

-I have started listening to talk radio and pod casts… for enjoyment.

-More often than not my tv is tuned in to Fox news or the Discovery Channel or Bravo. I know things about politics, and I have formed my own opinions.

-I have found myself looking at younger girls and shaking my head with the thought that “I can’t believe their mother let them leave the house like that. It’s no longer because I’m jealous that I can’t fit into those clothes, I actually can’t believe they are out in public wearing that.

-I couldn’t recognize a Miley Cyrus or Jonas Brothers song, and I couldn’t pick a Jonas brother out from a room full of adolescence aged boys.

- I haven’t watched an MTV show since there were actual videos on, and until recently I thought William was actually Will1a.m.

-I prefer reading anything by Ann Rice than doing anything related to the Twilight series.

-I worry all day long about how much sleep I’m going to get, because I know I can’t survive on less than seven hours.

-People used to compliment how perky my boobs were. They no longer do.

-I used to sleep in a bra to keep my boobs perky. Now I take that bitch off the second I walk in the door.

-If I met Zach Effron I’d probably have to fight the urge to pat him on the head..  (But I’m not gonna lie, I would totally do Shia Labouf)

-I just had to google how to @reply to someone on twitter.

-I know longer like shopping. I don’t like malls. I despise the music I play in them. I hate the people there. If I go shopping its for an item I need.

-I have used coupons.

-Some of my favorite songs are on the classic radio station.

-I have spent more than an hour of my life looking in the mirror, smiling and frowning, and watching the lines around my eyes move.

-I had a crush on Steven Tyler before he looked like a grandma.

I know, It’s not like I wear reading glasses or anything. But it’s only a matter of time.

Oh yes, I believe I’m still (kind of) hip to the times when it comes to film and music, but I’m pretty sure the movies and music I like makes me more of a nerd- Is Ben Folds still cool? You don’t have to remind me that wisdom comes with age, because their are plenty of things  that I did in my younger age that I wouldn’t ever think about doing today. And I’m not just talking about people.

However, I realized a couple weeks ago while I was watching Juno- that even though I got the gist of the movie and laughed at all the appropriate times- I have no fucking clue what these kids are really talking about.  Here is an insert from the film. What in the hell Ouiser? Or wait, I mean WTF?

Leah: Yo Yo Yiggady Yo.
Juno MacGuff: I’m at suicide risk.
Leah: Juno?
Juno MacGuff: No, it’s Morgan Freeman. Do you have any bones that need collecting?
Leah: Only the one in my pants…
Juno MacGuff: I’m pregnant.
Leah: What? Honest to blog?
Juno MacGuff: Yeah. Yeah, it’s Bleekers.
Leah: It’s probably just a food baby. Did you have a big lunch?
Juno MacGuff: No, this is not a food baby all right? I’ve taken like three pregnancy tests, and I’m forshizz up the spout.
Leah: How did you even generate enough pee for three pregnancy tests? That’s amazing…
Juno MacGuff: I don’t know, I drank like, ten tons of Sunny D… Anyway dude, I’m telling you I’m pregnant and you’re acting shockingly cavalier.
Leah: Is this for real? Like, for real for real?
Juno MacGuff: Unfortunately, yes.
Leah: Oh my GOD. Oh shit! Phuket, Thailand!
Juno MacGuff: There we go. That was kind of the emotion that I was searching for on the first take.

Sooo.. I’ve come to the conclusion that it come time for me to start using an incredibly useful  site known as the Urban Dictionary, a site where users can input their own definitions to slang words. Or as  one member defined Urban Dictionary in the Urban Dictionary:

6:40 am: alarm goes off. I hit snooze.

6:45am: repeat

6:50am: repeat

6:55am: repeat

7:00am: repeat

7:05am, 7:10am, 7:15am: repeat, repeat, repeat

7:16am: a private moment in the restroom… and brush my teeth at the same time. Then hop back into bed.

7:20am-ish: Flip onThe Today Show…Grab the clothes i left in a pile next to my bed. Get dressed while trying to stay under the blankets. Throw hair in a ponytail. Using spit and the inside of my shirt, I wipe the black from under my eyes. Take the make up bag and mirror left strategically next to my bed, and smear on some eyeliner. Notice I just got completely ready- in bed.

7:27am: Let out a loud, annoyed sigh and get out of bed. I walk/run into the kitchen and grab a lean cuisine, a protein bar, and a cup of joe.

7:35am: Jump in the car and take off.

7:38am: Reverse, run back into the house and grab whatever I happened to forget. eg. Phone, ipod, book, gymclothes.

8:10am: Arrive at work, late.

8:15am-10:20am.: Check facebook approx. 9 times. IMDB whatever movie I watched the night before, Gchat and email with the girlfriends to discuss our boredom. All with my firefox screen shrunk down to the size of a post it.

10:20am-11:30am: Open and close files. Stare at computer screen.

11:30am-12:30pm: Lunch time! I can finally surf the net in the open. Eat a lean cuisine. As. slow. as. possible.

12:30pm-5:00pm: see the 10:20-11:30 time slot above.

5:00pm: I smile, and leave.

5:30pm: Gym. (usually) Listen to podcast whilst working out.

7:00pm: Spend about 1 hour walking aimlessly around grocery store. If I go into Central market go ahead and tack on another hour and a half.

8:00pm: Eat something.

8:20pm: Feel guilty about ruining my workout with whatever I ate. Open a bottle of wine to cease my guilt.

9:00pm: Shower. (usually)

9:05pm-10:45pm: Sit in front of computer while listening to whatever my roommates are watching. Sometimes I get to watch what I want to watch…

10:45pm: pop a unisom.

Sometime before 1:00am: sleep, if I’m lucky.

I hope you enjoyed my really fucking exciting life. Can’t wait to do it again tomorrow.