By now you all know that in addition to being a writer, I am on the fun-filled, laugh-till-you-pee journey of becoming a film and television star. To this day I wonder, ‘why did you just go to law shcool or grad school, get a good job, and be done with it?” The answer is always the same–because I’d be on suicide watch by now, having delved into the abyss of creative stagnation. (That’s certainly not meant to offend anyone, it’s just my reality.) Love it or hate it, I am an actress and a writer. And while I’m currently on the the “loving it” side of the spectrum, I have to admit that yesterday’s wardrobe fitting for my shoot that starts in a few hours was arguably one of the most terrifying experiences of my career and simply reiterated the intent and purpose of this blog.
As an actress, especially an ‘unestablished’ actress, you kind of have to roll with the punches. Your performance is pretty much all you have control over once you’re on set. So when I arrived to the fitting yesterday, I was excited to see what wardrobe had picked out for my first role in a horror film and as a lesbian. (Double the fun.) So when the producer held up a pair of flower-printed, junior-size daisy dukes and a sky blue bikini top, I wasn’t quite able to process what I was seeing. Had we met? But as she continued to talk, the weighty reality of the situation washed over me–they actually wanted me to wear these things on camera. The theme music from “Psycho” was on repeat in my head. I was literally on the verge of cramping when the producer told me that they also had a tank top for me to wear over the bikini if I didn’t feel comfortable. ‘What gave me away? The look of panic on my face?’ So I gratefully accepted the tank top and went to try on the outfit.
As I began to undress, I remember thinking to myself, This is why I need to be a size 4. Who wants to show up on set and be worried about being uncomfortable in the wardrobe? I’m supposed to worry about lines, emoting, blocking–not whether or not my fatty thighs are going to jiggle when I have to run from the villain in a pair of tiny shorts. I want to be able to put on anything, including a bikini and feel totally at ease being filmed in it. Unfortunately, this was not the case yesterday. As slipped on the shorts I realized that not only were they short, but they were tight as well. Sweet, merciful, heaven! What the hell was I gonna do? I was totally uncomfortable and I knew that would translate on film, but I didn’t want to be a diva. My only hope was that the producer would see how unflattering the shorts were and pick something else. So I mustered all the confidence I had stored in my cheeks for the winter and marched my jiggly thighs out of the changing room. “Oh, I like the shorts,” were the first and last words I heard. SON OF A BITCH! This couldn’t be happening. I even told her, I thought my thighs looked kind of fat. Her response, “Oh, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Oh okay, great. Glad we settled that.
I only had one saving grace. The director hadn’t seen the outfit yet. Maybe she would hate it and we could choose something else. So as I shuffled off to put on my second outfit, (another tank top and pair of shorts–these being much looser and a bit longer), I was praying that the wardrobe gods were on my side. ‘Please, in the name of Patricia Fields and June Ambrose, please let them pick something else.’ So finally the director arrived. After a quick okay of the more modest outfit, we moved on to my nightmare realized. I walked out, she put her hand to her chin and tilted her head. Yes, I thought. This is it. Time slowed down and I saw her mouth begin to move. “I DON’T like the shorts,” she said finally. Let the “Hallelujah Chorus” begin!! On the outside, I stood there with no reaction, but on the inside I was doing the black-southern-church-happy-feet-shout! (*snare drums and organ please*)
Though the producer fought for the shorts, in the end, the director thought they were just too ‘girlie’ for my character. Whatever works, dude. So long as I’m not wearing them, I didn’t care what the reason was. I volunteered to bring a few of my own pieces for them to choose from tomorrow even though they will likely be permanently stained with fake blood. I wouldn’t care if they set the clothes on fire at the end of the day, so long as I can be comfortable.
But again, when I left, I wanted to kick myself. What if the director had liked the shorts? Why hadn’t I worked harder to lose those 8 pounds? I could have done more. At the end of the day, it’s not just about vanity. I hated feeling so insecure yesterday. I was embarrassed to be seen in those shorts, and I don’t ever want to feel that way–especially at work. So, I have to keep going with this. I haven’t been getting the results I wanted from the cleanse, (which is another post), but I’m still on it. Even though the pounds aren’t reflecting my efforts, my eating habits are surely changing, and that, I like.
So here’s the skinny–First deadline goal–FAILED! As of yesterday morning, I had only lost ONE pound this week, bringing my total to 5lbs. My goal was 8lbs by July 22nd, so I fell three pounds short. But I’m pushing forward. My second goal is to lose a total of 12 by August 9th, that means I have 7lbs to lose in a little less than 3 weeks. I haven’t given up! The next time wardrobe hands me a bikini top, I’m gonna tell them to keep the tank cause I won’t need it. 🙂