Lisa Brounstein's Blog

How’s that for a dramatic title? Okay, that is definitely over speak.  But WOW, it’s been an interesting couple of months.  And, yes, by interesting I mean sucky. I think it started around my birthday in June.  Sure the age thing is always a kick in the ass.  “How am I this old?!”  The television season ended without me booking anything.  Summer was on us and I had no firm plans to produce my one-woman show.  And, I was still unemployed.  So, what did I do?  Well, like all smart people I slowly stopped exercising.  I had been very regimented about walking miles daily.  But with the despair came the “fuck its.”  So, why would I continue to do the one thing that was making me feel better? It was probably the worst thing I could have done.  I think the exercise over the past months had really been keeping the doldrums at bay.  I had started walking before I lost my accounting “day job” at the end of last September.  Now it was the middle of June and I couldn’t get out bed in the morning.  I had been popping out of bed around 7ish and walking but from June until, well last week,  if I got out of bed by 8:30 it was a good day.  I forced myself to not sleep past 9a during the week and I kept my promise, mostly, about watching television during the day.

Unfortunately, what crept in with the lack of exercise was bad food choices.  I am not a dieter by nature.  I gave that up with self-loathing in the early 90’s.  (That doesn’t mean I won’t go on my version of Atkins from time to time.  Lots of good veggies and protein.  More on that another time.) I would eat well in the morning and usually well in the afternoon.  Sometimes I would skip breakfast and have a big lunch.  Then I would eat a late dinner.  I was eating fast food (not McDonald’s), which I don’t even like. But it would be an easy dinner.  Eggplant pizza.  Cookies from Trader Joe’s.  In retrospect, it wasn’t a lot of bad food.  (Except for this one Mexican place…) There is nothing like falling into a vat of Mexican food because you feel bad.  It’s the perfect vicious circle of feeling bad.  You fall in because you feel bad and then you feel bad because you fell into the crispy, cheesy, guacamole covered vat of tasty goodness. It was occasional bad food and too much good food and way, way too many carbs.  I was carb stoned most of the time.  I felt tired even after many hours of sleep.  And, I found I was hating myself a bit.  It wasn’t like it was in my past.  I am much more informed.  More than anything I was sad.

As I have said in many of blog posts, I keep looking at what’s next in my life. For the past few months, it all kind of felt like my life was at a stand still.  I feel like I need to say, that even in the depths of despair, I was feeling, I was and am incredibly grateful for my life.  I have good friends, an amazing husband, and a great family.  My health is really good.  Which for many is surprising.  I find their shock annoying.  That should be an entry in itself.

I was down visiting my folks last month.  Yes, visiting my mom in the middle of this could have been a recipe for disaster.  It wasn’t.  Mostly it was really nice being with them.  There was, of course, an incident.  We were going to go to dinner.  My mother insisted we take her car.  Yes, it’s a lovely car.  I just don’t fit comfortably in it.  Which makes no freakin’ sense!  How am I bigger than some Germans?!  Anyway, we ended up taking her car.  Why?  Because even at my age, with my Mom, it’s the Golden Rule.  She wanted to take her car, so, we took her car. On the way to dinner I sat in the front and Pop sat in the back.  I told him we would switch on the way back.  I packed myself into the front seat.  Then snapped the seat belt around my body and sat motionless…kind of stuck.  After dinner, I went to get into the back seat and, well, there wasn’t a chance I was going to get into the back seat of that car! I put the seat back forward and tried to climb into the back.  I put one foot in the back and then nothing.  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t squeeze into the back of this car.  WTF!!!  I tried moving the seat forward but it wouldn’t move.  This was it.  I stood in the parking lot imagining all the people walking to their cars watching my giant rear end hanging out of the side of this car as I tried desperately to force myself into the back seat.  All the while my mother is in the driver’s seat and Pop, well, he had the best view.  He graciously got in the back seat and I got back into the sardine can front seat and off we went.  To say that I was unhappy in that moment would be a great understatement.  It’s possible I was doing something wrong with the seat and I might actually be able to get back there.  Of course, I wonder how it will be to get out of the back seat of that car.  I suppose my mother wouldn’t be too pleased if we had to use the jaws of life to get me out.  Then again, it would be a lesson learned.

I have been thinking a lot about fitting in.  Where do I fit in?  Both literally and figuratively and here I was with my ass sticking out of the side of this Mercedes in a public parking lot.  It wasn’t my happiest moment.  Where do I fit?  Where don’t I fit?  Neither of these questions are necessarily bad things.  It’s okay if I don’t fit in the back of my mother’s car.  Now, I know.  But I would have liked to have known without having to learn the hard way.  I know I barely fit in airplane bathrooms.  Lesson learned.  I know I fit on all the rides at Disneyland but the ET ride at Universal; forget it!  Those are literal questions.  Where do I fit in life?  Do I fit in with my friends?  Do I fit in in public places?  How do people feel about me?  I had that person write derogatory comments to me after one of my entries here.  I have had mean things said to me in public.  People are fascinating.  Why do people think it’s okay to say something mean to a person of size or to anyone?  I have had strangers approach me and tell me about diets or exercise programs that could “help” me as if I need to be helped.  I have gone to the doctor for birth control only to have her “diagnose” me with obesity.  As if she were the first person to notice I was fat.  She actually wrote it on my insurance form.

The best was a couple of weeks ago.  I was in the middle of this state I have been in.  Kind of a funk.  Kind of a pity party. You know, I don’t have a job.  I don’t have money to buy things I want…a new computer, an iPad, etc. It isn’t like I need anything.  Anyway, I did a good deed and zipped to the valley for a friend.  On the way back I  stopped at Pavilion’s aka. Von’s to get some bread and sliced turkey and some of the amazing nectarines they had on sale.

It was 12:45 so people were trying to get sandwiches made for lunch.  The woman who helped me didn’t know what she was doing.  It was simple…one pound of Primo Taglio mesquite turkey and a half pound of havarti.  Another customer who had been there earlier in the day to buy meatloaf got the attention of the woman who was ostensibly helping me, after I had waited in line, and began helping her with her meatloaf.  The employee then told me it was going to be a while that I should go shop.  Essentially, she stopped helping me to help someone else.  Meanwhile, all the people who were in line after me were helped by other Von’s employees.

So, I decided to walk around the store even though I didn’t need much.  I grabbed a couple of small artisan flutes and a cluster of tomatoes on the vine.  Then I passed an employee who was giving samples of some kind of “brownie bites.”  She was talking to a male customer who had a backpack and a small suitcase in his basket.  (I saw him wandering the aisles later.) I hesitated to take a brownie bite at first.  Did I want a gooey bite of sweet before lunch.  Why not?!  The employee coaxed me to take one as well.  So, I did.  I jokingly said, “Well, that was enough.  Now, I don’t need to buy them.”  Then the other “customer” (and I use the term loosely) says, “People just don’t know how to lose weight properly.  They go about it all wrong…you should read this book…” I interrupted him and told him I wasn’t interested.  As I turned back to my basket, the employee was poking my artisan bread and she said to me, “That’s no good.  That’s what makes you fat.  That’s no good!”  I shook my head and walked away completely dumbfounded.

Am I so big that I am invisible?  Are people embarrassed by me?  What do you think when you see fat people?  What do you think when you see me?  I wonder.  Where do I fit?  I would love to travel the country and travel the world and find out exactly where do I fit in?

I admit it, I love Las Vegas.  I love to play the slots.  I love roulette.  I love the great restaurants.  I love to people watch.  It is a feast for all the senses in a most prurient way. Over the past year or so I have been spoiled by getting to stay at the Mandalay Bay.  Yes, I know there are more extravagant hotels in Las Vegas.  But there is something about the Mandalay Bay.  It smells a bit like heaven and coconuts.  Unfortunately, my great offers this time around weren’t for the Mandalay Bay.  I knew I would get 2 nights on the strip before we moved down to the South Point for my husband’s conference.  I had some GREAT offers for the MGM Properties.  So, I had to choose.  I was leery of choosing the Luxor even though in the past I have done well gambling there.  My birthday there last year was awful.  When you have to change rooms three times you just give up.  It was crazy since my husband’s birthday celebration there 3 months earlier was amazing.  Even the bed we had on his birthday was the most comfortable bed I had ever slept on.  It seems that is the only bed of it’s kind in the hotel.  With that said, we did opt to stay at the Luxor for the first 2 nights of our stay and while the woman at the desk told me she looked at the print out and we were going to have a pillow top mattress, we did not.  She was adamant that we get the room with the jacuzzi jets in the tub.  That was sweet but I knew it was highly unlikely we would use it.  The mattress was old and quite bouncy.  Given that it was bizarrely comfortable.

I gambled, well, a lot.  More than I anticipated.  I got stuck at a machine.  It was crazy.  I was like a poster child for why you shouldn’t gamble.  You know, I would hit a big jackpot and then give it all back.  Then I would put my money in because, of course, I was going to hit another jackpot.  Then I would give the money back and put in more of my money.  Yes, I know that is how they built Las Vegas.  Since I visited, the Luxor can definitely afford to buy it least one more pillow top mattress.

Out of my last six visits to Las Vegas over the past year I have only stayed at one other hotel besides the Luxor and the Mandalay Bay (or THE Hotel at the Mandalay Bay) and that was New York, New York.  Every time I have been to Las Vegas over this past year,  I have walked by RM Seafood which is at the foot of the Mandalay Place as you walk out of the Mandalay Bay Hotel towards the Luxor.  If I say I have walked by it 15 times I may be close to accurate.  I have read the menu a handful of times.  I even brought my husband there last August when we stayed at the Mandalay Bay.  He loves seafood.  But no, we ended up eating somewhere else.  So, this trip we had one free night together.  I asked if he wanted to try RM Seafood.  I had seen Rick Moonen a while back on Oprah where he made his signature catfish Sloppy Joe.  Not my bag of meat (as they say) but I knew my husband would be thrilled to eat seafood.  My mother was apoplectic when I told her we were probably going to go there.  “OHHH!!! I love him.  He should have won Top Chef Masters.  If you see him, tell him I said so.”  “Okay, Mom.  I will…”  As if I was going to see him.  I called over to the restaurant.  Made a reservation which was more like a, “Hey, can you seat two for dinner as soon as we can hoof it through the Luxor casino and through the Mandalay Place?”  The answer was yes.  We got there around 7:45 on a Wednesday evening.  The place was hopping.

As a woman of size, I always scope a place out to make sure I am going to fit where they are taking me to sit and to be sure that I am not going to bump into people along the way.  Once seated I always plot my way back out of the restaurant and watch as people are seated so I don’t have to say, “excuse me” as I bump into the back of someone as they are eating. The hostess took us to a perfect table.  The table moved so I was able to sit on the very comfortable bench.  My husband sat across from me.  We read the menu back and forth to each other.  You know, “Oh wow, did you see the crab cake?”  “They have barbecued macaroni and cheese.”  I don’t know who the people were sitting next to us but they were clearly “someone” when they were done their waiter came by and said, “Rick took care of it. Dinner is on him.”  Or something like that.  How nice of Rick! I didn’t even think that was “Rick” as in the “R” in RM. Our waiter was great.  John ordered the crab cake appetizer and the Cioppino for dinner.  He barely spoke to me during dinner. I ordered the macaroni and cheese as starter, and the pan roasted chicken with a side order of mashed potatoes for dinner.  Just typing it my mouth is watering.  Even though we wanted dessert we were full from the outrageous meal and didn’t order it.  We ate exactly what we wanted.  (Of course a little over a week later, writing it, I would KILL for what I left on that table.) During our meal the GM came over to our table and chatted with us a bit.  What a charmer! Then Rick, himself, came over to our table.  Yes, Rick Moonen!  It was such a wonderful surprise.  He was charming and humble.  His food is definitely a work of art and it shows.  He clearly LOVES what he does.  I look forward to going back again not just for the food but for the atmosphere of being around people doing what they love.

Then we moved down to the South Point Hotel.  My husband was going to attend TAM8 (The Amazing Meeting).  Financially, we figured next year I will attend as well.  I was so pleasantly surprised by the room at the South Point.  It was big and spacious…not a lot of furniture cluttering up the space.  But there was enough furniture to relax in different places in the room.  The two chairs at the table did not have arms.  The couch was firm and comfortable.  The bed was a bit firm but nice.  The pillows were great (even though I brought my own.) The bathroom was perfect.  One of my pet peeves as a big woman is a toilet that is crammed between two walls.  I have hips and those hips don’t need to rest against a wall while I sit on a toilet.  Sorry to paint a picture you may not be interested in, but suffice it to say, this bathroom was awesome!  Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t a 4-star hotel.  The toilet seat is plastic and there wasn’t a clock in our room.  We did have a flat screen television on the wall so I was able to eat a great deli sandwich from the deli in the hotel and catch a rerun of South Park while John attended a dinner.  As someone who, admittedly, can sit at a video poker machine for hours I will say their chairs in the casino weren’t very comfortable.  It was as if the chair was pitched forward.  Or it could have been the way my large ass fit on the chair.  I don’t know.  I definitely was aware of the seat and I can say I haven’t noticed that in other casino’s.  At least I didn’t notice it at the Luxor.

One night at the South Point we found ourselves sitting in the bar.  John had a beer and I was sporting a killer headache.  It could have been from staring at a video poker machine all day in an uncomfortable seat with canned air.  Regardless, I had a club soda.  I noticed that Paul Provenza was sitting with a group of people.  I am a HUGE fan.  No pun intended.  I really am.  The Aristocrats is sheer genius!! He had spoken earlier at the conference.  I would have LOVED to have been there.  So, here he was sitting with some people.  I wasn’t sure if he was with those people or if they, like me, just had to meet Paul Provenza.  I didn’t want to interrupt.  As time went on he got up to leave and I had the amazing opportunity to say hello and tell him how inspiring I thought his new show the Green Room on Showtime is.  We had a great conversation about stand up comedy.  He introduced me to his friend and producer of the Green Room, Barbara Romen.  Both of them were very generous with their time and attention.  Those brief conversations spurred me to consider performing stand up again.  Maybe…we’ll see.

It was a great time.  It definitely had me look a what’s next for me and it had me take a hard look at where I fit, both literally and figuratively.

This is not at all what I had planned on writing today.  I was all ready to start writing about my upcoming trip to Vegas and how excited I am to get away with my husband for a couple of days.  Then BAM.  I was poking around Facebook when I saw a video a friend had posted.  Now, the video in itself is appalling.  It’s about the awful wild horse round-ups being done in the name of needing the grazing land for cattle.  It’s essentially like eminent domain.  You know, the law that was passed that in essence says, if your property is worth more to someone else and will be “better” for the neighborhood as a hotel or something other than your home, someone can force you to sell it with the government as their strong arm.  It’s insane.  So, what’s happening with these wild horses is our tax payer dollars are being used to round up the horses in an inhumane and disgusting way so that cattle ranchers have more land, that doesn’t belong to them. It’s “government” land…so, it belongs to us, right?  Aren’t we the boss of the government?  Aren’t we?!  The video is really hard to watch.

Okay, so why then is Lisa Brounstein, fat actress, world traveller, writing about this?  It’s hardly my wheelhouse.  Sure I have a lot to say about the government and politics etc.  And, everyone knows I have a HUGE soft spot for animals.  I have always said, “I am one bad piece of bacon away from being a vegetarian again.”  I was a vegetarian for 17 years.  Even today I can go days without eating meat.  Hell, I apologize to bugs before I kill them, if I don’t capture them and set them free.  So, I am writing this not because of the video.  It’s because of what my friend posted before the video.  It’s because of what she said.

I am not going to post what she said verbatim for multiple reasons.  First, I don’t have her permission.  Second, I don’t think she really means what she is saying, completely.  I think that people, even people who love me, just don’t realize that fat and obesity really aren’t the source of all the ills in the world.  I really believe we have been trained and educated to believe that that is the case.  We are taught to believe that fat is ugly and wrong and if people weren’t fat than the world would be a much better place.  Wow, really?!  Okay, hear me out.

My friend started off talking about the BP oil spill and how our tax dollars are going to be used to clean up BP’s mess.  I have done some reading on the matter.  It doesn’t make me an expert. I am devastated by what is going on in the Gulf and have thought about going down to clean birds.  I read they are only allowing experienced volunteers and people to do that.  Which is probably better.  I think it would emotionally wreck me, forever.  The pictures are so upsetting.  I am not a fan of BP.  I think they have handled this whole thing POORLY.  How’s that for your understatement of the day?  But what I will say, is that we or rather, our government has allowed this to happen.  We allowed BP to drill off shore.  Those waters are federally owned and they are regulated by the Federal Government.  The law is written in such a way to protect the oil company with a punitive financial cap of $75 million.  Yes, BP really, by law, only has to pay $75 million.  However, they have given the government 20 BILLION dollars to aid in the clean up as well as to help the people who are and have lost their livelihoods.  Now it’s up to the government to dole out the money.  How’s that going?  How did the mortgage/bank bail out go?  How about that automaker bail out?  I’m just asking.

Then my friend went on to say that cattle corporations (she was saying that BP is a big corporation like the cattle corporations) are rounding up these majestic horses in order to use the land for their own cattle so they can sell the meat from said cattle and make even more money by selling to McDonald’s who will in turn sell Big Mac’s and fries. This would then effect the taxpayer because we are paying for the needless slaughter and storage of these horses all so these cattle corporations can get richer.  Okay, I can get that…mostly.  I don’t believe for a second that the government isn’t getting something out of this.  I am sure they are getting a lot.  It’s like a subsidy.  They aren’t doing it out of the goodness of their heart.  I am sure there are many sides to this sick and twisted story.  Okay, now here is what got me.  She goes on to make the correlation with the round up and eating McDonald’s with people growing more obese.  Oh man, really?

I watched the video because she mentioned BP and tax dollars and then also mentioned the obese.  As someone who is considered obese and someone who is really tired of my tax dollars being spent on things for which I disagree with, I had to look at the video.  I didn’t get the correlation completely.  Unless, she was saying that because cattle ranchers are driving the horses away so they can let their cattle graze there and then they sell their beef to McDonald’s where people buy Big Macs and, of course, only fat/obese people eat Big Macs, then it’s the fat people’s fault that the horses are being tortured.  That is only a correlative argument…you know, “correlation is not causation.”  In essence, she’d be saying it’s obese people’s fault that the wild horses are being slaughtered and tortured.

It’s that seven deadly sin scenario.  Greed, gluttony, extravagance, sloth…doesn’t that describe me?  You know, I just sit around all day and eat Big Macs and fries on my gold plated couch with my 60 inch flat screen TV.  No, I don’t.  None of that is true.  I honestly don’t think I have ever eaten a Big Mac.  Maybe as a child but I don’t have a recollection of it.  What is my reason for writing about this today?  My reason is this.  I am fat…and I say that with no malice or degradation.  I am definitely a BIG woman.  In medical terms I am obese.  So, I write this to give a face to all of those faceless and headless fat and obese people out there who are consistently being called forth as the cause of so much of the worlds ills today.  Especially in the United States and in Britain.

I honestly believe she probably didn’t think twice (or once) about me when she wrote what she wrote.  I understand that she is angry and frustrated.  Clearly she is angry about the horses and the horrific fate they are meeting.  And, she is a very intelligent person.  There isn’t a chance she isn’t upset about what is going on with our country in general.  As a human being and as a fat person I feel like it is my responsibility to remind people that fat people aren’t faceless or headless like they show on the news.  We have feelings.  We are human beings.  I am sure many of us care about the plight of the horses and the devastation in the Gulf of Mexico too.

That is the killer line that a lot of fat women get.  Even the ones that don’t have a pretty face hear that.  It’s always said with the inference being, “but it’s a damn shame about the rest of you!”  But that is never said.  Okay, it’s rarely said.  You can hear it though, “You have such a pretty face…but it’s a damn shame about the rest of you.”  Ahh, it makes me curse.

Speaking of cursing.  I got into an argument recently with someone I care very much about.  I don’t often have those kinds of confrontations.  Which isn’t to say, I don’t have confrontations.  I seem to have more and more of those as I get older.  Just ask the manager at the Verizon store here in West Hollywood.  That poor excuse for a manager in customer service knows I don’t shy away from confrontation.  But this other interaction I had I was most calm even though I raised my voice.  I should say that everything is really good between us now.  However, this person did tell me I used obscenities.  Fuck, I don’t even think of them as obscenities.  Sure, I try not to use them when I speak to my step father.  He is awesome and very old school and doesn’t like to hear “obscenities” coming from my mouth.  So, in deference to him, I don’t use those words. For most other people, get over it.  They are words.  Of course, I don’t curse like I have something wrong with me that requires a seratonin reuptake inhibitor.  Sometimes it’s just called for. And, most of the time it just shouldn’t matter.

People are so funny about words.  I was talking to someone yesterday and I called myself “fat.”  He tripped all over himself, “don’t call yourself that!” he stammered.  Really?!  I explained that it’s just a descriptor.  I wasn’t saying anything bad about myself.  It wasn’t like I was calling myself ugly or unfortunate in any way.  I told him as long as he didn’t yell it at me I was fine.

I was talking to a girlfriend this morning about that exchange from yesterday.  She agreed with me about it being a descriptor.  At least she mostly agreed.  When I told her some guys had walked behind me and oinked, in a shopping mall outside Chicago a couple of years ago, she couldn’t understand why I didn’t confront them.  It wasn’t like I was going to make a difference for those boys in that moment.  They were young and ignorant.  Plus I think they probably thought I was hot.

I have a theory.  It’s a theory I have had for a while.  It started when I discovered there was a whole world of men who actually preferred big women.  Yes, just like there are men who prefer brunettes and men who prefer blonds or big breasts or small breasts etc. there are men who like big women.  Yes, like a preference!  What I also discovered was there are men who have an overwhelming desire to try a big woman.  Sure there are the men in between.  There are those men who are afraid they will be ostracized if they let people know they have a preference for big women.  They are afraid of what society or their mother’s or their buddies will think.  Wimps and cowards, I say!  Those are the men who are the ones who oink when they see a fat woman or yell out of the car, “Hey Fatty!”  They are the ones who protest the most.  Which leads me to my theory that the ones who are the most vocal about it are the ones who are dying to get into those size 3x panties.

Here’s a thought.  Maybe when I say the word, “fat”, people cringe because to them it is awful.  Not just the word but what it’s describing.  Maybe we have been so trained, especially in our current culture, to believe that fat intrinsically is bad that when we here the word we cringe as if someone said something stupendously awful.  That guy I was speaking to was talking about an actress who he feels “needs to lose 10 pounds in order to be a star.”  She is maybe a size 6 on fat day during her period.  Maybe the word “fat” isn’t just an ugly word to people but maybe it also describes something that is beyond ugly.  I had a friend growing up whose mother was afraid of having me play with her after school for fear that her daughter would get fat too.  Like it was contagious.

I am ridiculously fortunate to be living the life I live.  I am happy.  I am healthy.  I have a great husband. I live in Los Angeles.  I have a wonderful family.  I have fabulous friends.  I am pursuing what gets me out of bed in the morning.  Our bills are paid this month.  I have health care.  I have a twenty in my wallet.  I love my body. And, I am FAT.  I know there are A LOT of people out there who, thin and fat alike, can’t say most of that.  Maybe it’s my mission to make a difference.  Maybe I should challenge people to stop looking at what they perceive as wrong with themselves and stop trying to fix themselves and start loving themselves and nurturing themselves and stop wanting and hoping and start making a difference for themselves.  When I told Oprah I loved my body she cringed and said, “You love your body?!”  Clearly, she has issues with being fat.  Maybe I should start with her.

When I ditched my life in San Diego to follow and pursue my dreams of being an actor, writer and comedian I had no idea what was ahead of me.  When I look back now it is hard to believe I have done all that I have done.  I am definitely grateful for the life I have lived and the opportunities I have had.  It has been quite a ride and I look forward to what’s next.  It’s also not lost on me how incredibly fortunate I am to have been able to fulfill on living this dream.  Even if the dream isn’t complete…yet.

Not long after I moved here I was driving down Santa Monica Blvd.  I was kind of freaking out.  I was all alone here.  I didn’t know many people in Los Angeles. In fact, when I moved here I had two friends who lived here and some family, who I never saw.  So, here I am driving along and there are tons of people out.  I think it was a Saturday.  I almost felt like I could hear people talking.  Not to belittle or diminish schizophrenics but I definitely felt like I was hearing voices.  It certainly was an anxiety filled moment.  I turned the radio on really loud and sang along to ease the ensuing panic. My heart was racing so I pulled into the first place I could find.  It turned out to be the Hollywood Forever Cemetery.  It’s a funny place for a cemetery.  It’s right in the heart of things behind Paramount Studios.  People like Jayne Mansfield and Rudolf Valentino are buried there.  And, so are my great-grandparents.  I am named for my great-grandfather Louis…who I never met.  But somehow it seemed appropriate that in the middle of my lonely, anxiety, fraught freak-out I would end up at their grave site.  They are interred in one of the Jewish mausoleums there.  Is it odd to say that talking to a wall filled with dead people I have never met helped my loneliness and anxiety?  Well, it did.  I drove away from there feeling much, much better.  Not to be overly dramatic and significant but it felt like the loneliness and the uncertainty lifted.

When I got home I had a message on my answering machine.  It was someone singing really loud to the song Who Will Save Your Soul by Jewel.  I listened to it over and over again.  How odd!!  While I was at a cemetery someone left a message singing Who Will Save Your Soul.  It must have been a sign.  It must have been something supernatural!  No.  It was me.  Yes, I had somehow called myself in the heat of the anxiety I was having and left myself a message of my very loud and out of tune rendition of Who Will Save Your Soul.  Looking back, those voices I was hearing while driving was probably me on my outgoing message.  It was a very funny moment in this journey.  I guess the answer to the question of “Who Will Save Your Soul” (not really yours…)  is and was ME.  That is if you believe in that whole soul saving thing.

Today, the day after a great audition, rather than sulk all day and sit by the phone, I had to run errands.  You know, life errands.  Someone has to grocery shop and someone had to pay the storage rent.  Ooh, me, let me do it!  I had a hard time getting out of the house after having a hard time getting out of bed.  Once showered and coffeed and having had a couple of long phone conversations and having checked my emails I set out for Hollywood.  It has been a while since I stopped in to see my great-grandparents and I thought today would be a good day since it is on the way to my storage unit.  Traffic was nuts so as I zipped by the cemetery I saw they were shooting Dexter there.  How do I know?  The tell-tale bright yellow signs with “Dexter” printed on them indicating that Dexter was shooting there.  After paying my storage bill I was able to pull into the cemetery on my way back.  A guard stopped me.  I explained I was going to see my great-grandparents and pointed to the mausoleum where they are interred.  It was on the opposite end of the cemetery from where they were shooting.  Truly, the last thing I wanted is to be in the way of one of the greatest shows on television.  The writing and the acting on that show is like going to school for me!  The guard told me where I could park.  As I was driving over another guard stopped me.  There was no where to park after all.  And, again, the last thing I wanted was to be in the way.  So, I told the guy, “No problem.  They’re dead…I can come back another time.”  He was very sweet saying something like “it’s the thought that counts” or something gushy.

So, now what?  Well, I continue to look for work.  I continue to write…I have some new ideas.  I heard from the producer we are doing another staged reading of the play I am in.  There is a lot to do to fill a day and I never seem to get it all done.   In the immediate future, I will cook dinner.  Really, my life is very exciting.

I had an audition today.  And, while I am a bit superstitious, for someone who doesn’t believe in that kind of stuff, I will say it was a great experience.  It called for someone to be rather tough.  My awesome acting coach and I broke it down on Saturday and came up with the word “menacing” to describe her.  I worked all weekend on it.  Sure, I took breaks.  It was the weekend.  (Is there really a difference between a weekend and a Monday when you are unemployed?  Yes, because my husband is home on the weekends…) I learned the lines and I really got to know the character.  So, when I got to the casting office today, 45 minutes early, I decided to stay in my car and work just a bit more.  Then I walked through the parking structure and out onto the plaza and then into the building.  I figured I had 20 minutes at this point, I should go to the restroom and freshen up and cool off a bit.  As I was in the stall reading the lines I hear someone come in and not go into a stall.  Then I hear the tell-tale clicking of an iPod wheel.  Then I hear really loud music coming from someone’s earphones.  They must be deaf.  I have to see.  I gather my things and step out to the sinks.  There before me was this TOUGH woman.  She looked like Angela Bassett.  She had a muscle shirt on and workout pants and a bandanna on her head.  She was definitely menacing.  How in the world was I, the Pillsbury dough girl, going to compete with that?  She left the restroom before I did.  Then I went into the casting room and signed in.  Scary-menacing-bandanna lady was standing and staring at her reflection in a window with an, “I fucking dare you” look.  Every once in a while she would kind of shift which made me and two other women shift in our seats.  The rest of the women were all kinds.  I was the largest and had the fairest skin compared to my dark hair.  There were red heads and tattooed girls.  There were women with long-hair and short hair.  It was definitely a slice out of almost every group.  Scary-menacing-bandanna-girl went in before me.  I could hear a bit of her audition so I walked away.  I didn’t want it to affect me.   I felt like I gave a good audition.  The casting director was BEAUTIFUL.  WOW, is she pretty.  And, she was very nice and complimentary. She even thanked me for being “so prepared.”  As they say, that and $3 will buy me a cup of Starbucks coffee.

Now what?  Well, now nothing.  I am home.  So, I wait to hear.  But I can’t really “wait.”  It is maddening to wait for a call regarding a call-back or to find out if you got the part.  You just have to think of it like a trip to the store.  Once you are home you don’t think about the trip to the store.  You don’t second guess yourself on if you bought the right eggs and if only you had then life would be better.  You don’t think about the milk or the tomatoes.  You just go on with your life.  Sure, it’s easy to say.  Certainly, every time my phone rings tomorrow I will jump and my heart will beat an extra beat harder.  Then by Wednesday when the phone rings my heart won’t beat harder or extra.  Then when my phone rings on Thursday I won’t even flinch before I answer it…unless I am napping.

Today feels like a step in the right direction.  Whether or not I was the menacing girl she wanted I know she will remember me.  Who knows maybe they will need me for something else or better yet, maybe I will get this part. Let’s see what tomorrow brings.

I haven’t written in a while.  And, it isn’t that I don’t think about writing ALL the time.  I do.  It’s just life gets in the way.  I get busy.  Being unemployed and trying to figure out what’s next has been, well, interesting.  I am going to warn you in advance…I am especially crabby today.  I want to preface that with the fact that I know I am ridiculously fortunate.  That being said, wow, I am feeling angry and annoyed today.  No, it isn’t PMS.  No, it isn’t low-blood sugar.  I am WAY too young for menopause or peri-menopause (thanks Mom, that helped…)

We have had a lot of company over the past month or so.  This is the first weekend that we haven’t had company in what feels like forever.  It is also Gay Pride Weekend in LA.  Parking on our street was at a premium.  I thought about moving my car to the street so I could sell the spot when people started driving around in circles looking for parking.  Luckily, no one blocked our driveway today.  Today they would have been towed.  Hell, in my mood, I could have gone out there and pushed a car out of the way.  At least I got to see some people in “assless chaps” at the parade.  That definitely helped my mood.

I have been acting in a play.  I auditioned and got the part which was very exciting.  The play is called The Donut Shop by Carl Stillitano.  It’s about 4 people (an anorexic, a bulimic, an over-eater and a guy named Mike) who get locked in a donut shop and their interactions while they try to get out.  Guess which part I play? It’s in pre-production I guess you would say.  The producers are looking for investors so we did a staged reading of the play a little over a week ago.  It was a great time.  We are going to be doing another reading in about 10 days. Fingers crossed.

Tomorrow, I have a big television audition.  It’s one where I have to be “menacing.”  I went to my acting coach yesterday and he told me I need to work on not letting my “good nature” come through in my voice.  HA!  When I think I am being nice people get defensive like I am being a bitch.  And, when I am acting menacing I am told my good nature is coming through.  WTF!!!  I was thinking maybe I should video tape myself and then see how I sound.  I’m afraid that may piss me off too.

My acting coach also told me to consider doing stand-up.  I just don’t know if I can do it again.  I did it for years.  I was performing stand up when I moved to LA.  I was performing in San Diego before I moved.  But now, I just don’t know if I can do it.  I feel like I was so young then.  Funny, right?  I suppose this bitter pill I have obviously swallowed could make for great stand up.  Ack, I just don’t know.

There is this woman who walks her dog on our street.  He is a big rotty mix. She is a skinny blond with gorgeous legs. He is like a big buffoon of a dog.  He lumbers along and bounces around.  He clearly isn’t the brightest bulb in the dog house but he is definitely filled with joy.  Surprising since his owner is, well, stupid!  She walks him off the leash.  Why?  Because she can’t control him on the leash.  It’s a huge error in logic that is going to be a recipe for disaster. (I try and throw at least one cliche in every post…there you go.) Everyday he bounds across our lawn and chases the little cat who lives in our yard.  I have confronted her on numerous occasions and yet, she continues to do this.  I have confronted her on the street where she has completely ignored me.  (OHHH, I should think of her when I audition tomorrow!!)  Today I was at my kitchen table as Cujo came bounding across our lawn to chase the cat.  I yelled out to her, “Please keep your dog off our lawn!!”  To which she replied, “He pulls my arm when he wants to chase your cat…so, I can’t.”  Did I already say, STUPID?!  So, I say, “Then don’t walk here!”  So, she replies, “We just live up the street.” So, I say, “Walk on a different street!!”  I was polite…given I was trying to have a battle of wits with an unarmed opponent (second cliche alert) I made sure to holler after her, “It’s not his fault you walk him here!”  The dog is just being a dog…an untrained dog at that.  I am sure they will be back tomorrow around 9a.  Maybe I will set up my video camera and wait.  Plus it will help me with my audition later in the day.

A couple of weeks ago my husband said, “Maybe we should send you back to Amsterdam…”  I was lit up when I got back last time.  I think he is torn between wanting to get rid of me without burying me in the yard and truly believing sending me away would inspire me.  I feel like I still am very excited about what I want to do.  I have knocked on a few doors and either no one answered or they were slammed in my face.  I know I need to just shake this off and move forward.  Like I said, I am not giving up and I am certainly not done, yet.

Believe me, I know how ridiculous I am being.  I want to work.  I want to work at what I moved to LA to do.  I want to write.  I want to act.  I want to be able to contribute to the world both with my experiences and financially.  I want to make a difference.

What’s the answer?  Do I write a book?  Do I stick with my one-woman show and do my own staged reading?  Do I promote the reality ideas I have?  Crap, couldn’t I just win the lottery?

I had written another blog and was all ready to post it when I heard about ABC and FOX banning an ad for Lane Bryant’s lingerie brand Cacique.

Of course, I had to look it up.  My first thought was, “Are you fucking kidding me?!”  Those women are beautiful.  Next to me they are anorexic thin.  But in today’s societal view of plus-size women they’re fat.  I would peg them at maybe a size 8-10 after a big meal.  Which in today’s world is average.  Quite frankly, they are smaller than average given that there are statistics that state 60% of American women are over a size 14.  Regardless, they aren’t the thin women we are used to seeing in the Victoria’s Secret ads, which I must say, are WAY more risque and sexual than this ad.

I know I need a segue way here but trust me this will make sense.  When I moved to Los Angeles to be an actor and a writer I had no idea what was lying ahead for me.  When I got here I really didn’t know people.  I had a friend who lived here but he was quite busy with his life.  Other than that I was on my own with my ideas, my computer with my dial up modem and my stand-up comedy.  I performed at The Comedy Store and met some people.  But overall I was a loner.  I would play on my computer for hours.  I would go on AOL and talk to men in chat rooms.  I would lie and tell them I was thin because, even though I was on the road to self-acceptance, I had yet to meet a man who liked fat women.  Was there such a thing?  Well, yes, after much embarrassment of having to tell men that actually I was a plus-size woman, “how fat are you?!!”  UGH.  I found there were men who liked big women.  I found BBW (Big Beautiful Woman) chat rooms on line.  A whole world opened up for me.  I was fortunate to meet some great women during that time who are now life long friends as well.

I also subscribed to BBW magazine.  I had read the magazine years before.  I had even used their personal ads to find romance and didn’t.  So, I knew there was a world out there that I was interested in.  I just didn’t realize how big the world was so-to-speak.  In the back of one of the magazines there was an ad for a mens magazine for men who like big women.  It wasn’t your standard pink-part magazine.  It looked like it might even be a magazine that women could also enjoy.  So, I subscribed.

In the meantime, I submitted myself to the BBW Model contest.  I remember when I was younger I had done it and never heard back.  I figured I had nothing to lose sitting in LA hoping to make it as an actor.  I submitted photos.  And, I did hear back this time.  They told me I didn’t make it into their contest but they liked my look and asked that I be a professional model for them.  It was a one-time deal.  It was a great and memorable experience.  At the time, BBW magazine was owned by Larry Flynt.  Yes, Larry Flynt of Hustler magazine fame.  We shot out in one of his porn studios in Chatsworth in the San Fernando Valley.  Hilarious.  They put the mattresses up against the walls so, we would have room to shoot.  There were stacks of all kinds of porn magazines filled with images of every fetish you could think of and some you would be grateful to have not thought of.  It was a kick.  As it turns out, I was the largest model to ever grace the pages of BBW magazine.  At least up until that point.

Then I received my copy of the mens magazine I had mentioned earlier.  WOW!  I was so excited to see this magazine.  No pink parts.  No gynecological poses.  Just very big and mostly, very beautiful women.  In the back of the magazine was a one-page article about BBW dances being offered here in Los Angeles.  The article had pictures of a Halloween party with big women dressed up having fun. Literally, in one sitting, my whole world opened up.   I called and found out about the next dance and within a couple of weeks found myself attending a dance party in a room filled with big women and the men who wanted them.  WooHoo!  Okay, so this isn’t the point of this particular blog.  I promise in an upcoming blog I will tell you all about the dances. And, there is much to tell.

This magazine was like a bomb going off in my world.  I was so excited to read every word.  Sure some of it wasn’t for me.  But overall it was magic. Even the imagery of seeing these big women showing off their bodies was exciting to me.  Not in a sexual way.  But in a way that had me get that my body was beautiful and sexy.  I was able to look at my body and not be disgusted and angry.  After a couple of issues I did something I never in a million years would have imagined.  I submitted my photos to the magazine.  Yes, I had a friend take some pictures of me in lingerie and I submitted them for consideration.  Surprisingly, for me, they wanted to use them in their magazine.  Then they told me I was going to be on the cover.  Within a year I went from being a woman who didn’t date to being a woman on the cover of a mens magazine.  Sounds like a Hollywood story to me.

Of course, I told my mother.  I had to let her know.  In hindsight, I probably didn’t have to let her know.  It might have been easier on her to not know for a variety of reasons. This wasn’t a magazine that you would find on shelf in a bookstore.  It was a subscription-only magazine and you had to know about it to find it.  But for whatever reason I told my mother.  There was probably some veiled in-your-face attitude on my part too.  It wasn’t our finest moment as mother and daughter.  Sure, it worked out in the long-run but, wow, in the moment, she wasn’t pleased.  It didn’t matter that I told her I was covered.  I told her I wasn’t completely naked.  I told her it was so liberating and freeing for me and that I felt so beautiful and sexy.  None of that mattered.  The fear for her was what if someone found out.  What if one of their friends found out, or worse, saw the magazine.  What I said to her was that if one of their friends found out than we would know a lot more about them they would about us.  Really!  If one of the husbands of my mom’s friends saw the magazine we would definitely know what he liked.  Angrily, I said to her, “If I was in thin and in Playboy completely naked showing off every nook and cranny of my body you would be less upset than you are about this.  In fact, you would be proud.  Your anger is because I’m fat!”  Like I said, not our finest moment. Ultimately, it brought us closer being able to be so honest with each other.  Just ask our good friend Oprah.

So, back to the banning of the Lane Bryant ad.  Is it really because it is too sexy for television?  Or is it because the women are fat?  And, what about the Victoria’s Secret ads on television or even the Playtex bra commercials?  They are all women in bras with the difference being the Lane Bryant models are larger than the other models.  In my world, they certainly aren’t fat.  Could it be some manufactroversy (a manufactured controversy that is motivated by profit)?  I really hope that because of this controversy more people see the ad than would have seen it before.  I am sure more people are talking about it.  I certainly am!

I know I have been kind of beating the same drum for a while now.  And, really, it’s the drum I have.  To use another cliche, it’s the hand I’ve been dealt.  It’s the bed I have so I’m going to lie in it.  It’s my cake so I’m going to eat it. I can mix a million metaphors and it all comes down to the fact that I am a fat woman living.  Yes, living and living well.  As I have said, time and time again, I live an amazing life with a loving and wonderful husband.  I have great friends and a beautiful family.  It’s a pretty sweet deal.  It isn’t everyday that I deal with some kind of personal attack because of my size.  It isn’t everyday that someone posts on my blog that I am a pig or that someone drives by and hollers some obscenity followed by a fat descriptor at me.  It isn’t everyday that a hostess leads me towards a booth in a restaurant where I know I won’t be able to fit.  It isn’t everyday that I drive with someone else and find the seat belt in their car won’t fit me.  It isn’t everyday that I walk by some women in a store and they laugh as I walk by and then whisper to each other.  Or, like today, it isn’t everyday that I walk by someone in the grocery store who makes a “tsk” sound as I pass. No, these things don’t happen everyday.

One of my better qualities, or maybe it’s one of my faults, is I try and see the good in people.  If not the good, at least I try and look at them and see what it is that has them be the way they are or do the things they do.  Like the person who posted that nasty comment on my blog the other day or the people who were so nasty about Kevin Smith on his ill-fated Southwest Airlines flight.  It always seems people’s bad behavior comes from some kind of fear.  It makes sense that if someone is afraid they may indeed act in a way that, under normal circumstances, would be considered inappropriate but in a situation where they are, say, protecting themselves it would be considered self-defense.  Hear me out on this.  We live in a climate of fear these days.  We are afraid of the financial crisis in the US, the unemployment crisis, the housing crisis, the oil crisis, the health care crisis, the war in Afghanistan, the war in Iraq, the Palestinian/Israeli conflict, the powder keg that is Iran, the fear of North Korea, the war on drugs, high sales tax, the IRS, taxes in general, etc., etc….I think I have made my point.  The list goes on and on and on with terrifying things impacting and affecting all of us in one way or another.  Given those issues, issues over which we feel that we have little or no control but to live in fear and try and function in our daily lives under the constant duress and fear weighing us down,  I can see how when the picture of obesity is painted as a global issue that needs to be dealt with it would seem like the easy solution would be to say, “step away from the refrigerator fatty!”  It certainly seems like it will be a lot easier to fix that problem, to wage that war the way it’s drawn rather than, let’s say, finding a solution for Middle East peace.

If the recipe for being thin really was as simple as just eating less and exercising wouldn’t everyone be thin?  It’s like those “get rich quick” infomercials with the guy saying, “I made my first million just sitting in my house and doing essentially nothing and you can too!”  I am sure a lot of you (I know some of my audience will definitely know this) have heard the “fact” that 95% of all diets fail.   It’s has been said and has been used to further many agendas of different diet programs as well as by fat people who are just tired of being berated.  What I have found in my limited research is that most dieters gain back ALL of their weight.  UCLA did a series of studies showing this in the late 90’s. Some statistics are skewed based on how long it takes for someone to gain back the weight they lost.  So, if someone loses 50 pounds and keeps it off for 5 years and then gains it back plus an additional 10 pounds or so in the 6th year then the diet was a success.  Can you imagine if that was your business model?  Can you imagine if you were to sell someone a product with no guarantee that statistically is proven to fail at least 95% of the time?  In a nutshell that is the diet industry…a multi-billion dollar industry scam.

There are people who are waging the war against obesity by calling it an “epidemic” or a “pandemic.”  I have heard newscasters say, “the obesity epidemic is spreading and has now become a world-wide pandemic.”   Well, for goodness sakes, keep your children indoors and away from fat people!!   Okay, that’s ridiculous, right?  Is it?  How many of you have heard that more and more people are getting fat?  How many of you have heard that people are fatter today than they were years ago?  Well, according to the CDC (The Center for Disease Control and Prevention here in the US) who produced two studies in regards to obesity both in the United States and in the England this isn’t the truth.  This so called epidemic just isn’t.   These studies were published in January 2010 in The Journal of American Medical Association.  One study was about obesity in children and adolescents and the other was about adult obesity.  These studies show that these claims of a worldwide obesity pandemic are false and that statistically there have been no significant changes in obesity in women over the last decade and for men no significant changes over the past five years of the decade.

All of this reminds of me of the movie “Wag the Dog.”  We can’t deal with all of the woes we have.  And, believe me, we have a lot of woes.  So, rather than deal with the real issues we throw out this overblown hyped issue and scare people into thinking they have to make a difference because lives are at stake. By doing this we stop paying attention to the real issues all the while forgetting and overlooking there is a human aspect in this “war.”  Fat people are people with feelings just like other people.  We bleed when we are cut.  We cry when we are in pain.  We put our shoes on one foot at a time. 

When I was young I had a friend I loved being with.  We would hang out and talk about boys and life and our futures.  Then one day she told me we couldn’t hang out as much anymore.  When I pressed her to tell me why, she told me.  It turned out her mother was afraid that by spending time with me she would get fat.  Like it was contagious.  As if she would catch my fat cooties and then balloon out out control.  It didn’t happen.  She didn’t gain weight.  Maybe her mother had her vaccinated before her daughter succumbed.  This was long before we had a “War on Obesity. ” This was long before the so-called epidemic.  And, it hurt then and it stings now in the retelling.  As I will say again and again, I am really fortunate.  I have a great life.  Like I have a protective coating or a shell protecting me, just a bit, from this ignorance.  What about those people and children who don’t have that?  What about the people whose self-esteem isn’t whole?  What about those people who are already unhappy and are lonely and sad because the world has told them there is something wrong with them that needs to be cured?  Is telling them to eat a piece of celery and join a gym really the cure?

First, I want to say to those of you concerned that I am in a “funk.”  Please don’t worry.  This is a good place to be.  They always say that when you know where you are going there isn’t room for creativity.  Well, if that is really the case then the whole world is my oyster and I am pearl diving for creativity.  I am definitely up for something.  I understand what is going on with me is a product, or symptom if you will, of circumstance not of some chemical imbalance.  I don’t need “happy pills.”  I need an outlet that will have me make a nice living, allow me to have a voice and make a difference.  The blog, for now, will give me two out of those three.

Clearly, the topic of being fat is near and dear to my heart (forgive the puns…they will be plentiful…) but I feel like I need to make this quick clarification before I go on.  Since there is a lot of misinformation out there regarding fat people I want to make a couple of things perfectly clear about myself for those who don’t know me and for those who do but aren’t sure:  I do not want to infringe upon your space in anyway whether in a movie, a restaurant or on an airplane,  I shower daily – I don’t smell, I don’t sweat profusely (unless I am exercising or it’s hot, duh), I am not sloppy, and I am not lazy…

I also want to say, I am not standing on a soapbox or shouting from a rooftop that people should be fat.  I am not a cheerleader for some fat movement nor am I a fat cheerleader. What I am saying is be healthy, be happy, and stop being so cruel and ignorant.  With that said, I posted what I did yesterday because I am and was upset and dismayed by what I have been seeing in the media and in the world in general.  This hatred towards fat people has become unbearable.  This morning I saw I had a notification that there was a comment waiting for approval on yesterday’s blog.  Now, I am not completely foolish.  I have comments set to only post upon my approval.  I woke feeling good this morning.  I woke feeling positive.  And, then I read the comment on my post from yesterday.  It was EXACTLY what I was talking about.  In case you haven’t seen it, I will post it for you here.  It is a perfect illustration of what I said.

“Listen fatso, obesity is a choice. You know what you’re getting into the minute you open the fridge door.  You can choose to stop being ridiculed for  being a selfish glutton anytime you want. Pig!”

Can you imagine saying that to someone?  I can’t respond to them personally because they made up an email address so they could hide behind anonymity – like a coward would – and post this.  It is pretty disgusting.  I am not going to get into the whole misinformation about obesity being a choice.  I don’t know how I am being selfish.  Am I taking up too much space?  Do I use up too much oxygen?  Did I eat the last cookie that you wanted?  Then there are all the things I want to throw back at this person.  It won’t make a difference.  You can’t fight ignorance with anger.  It doesn’t make a difference.

There is an enormous amount of cowardice in these bullies.  For so long they would hide in the comment sections on blogs and news articles on the net.  They were afraid to show their faces and creep out from underneath their rocks.  Unfortunately, now, those cowards are spilling over into our mainstream media under the guise of trying to help fix a problem that is more like punishing the innocent.  These bullies, many with their own agenda, are coming out in force to wage war against the obese.

MeMe Roth is one of those bullies.  (It is poetic that her name is MeMe.)  She is an undereducated and over-hyped “expert” who is part of the War on Obesity.  She is one the people who is out to destroy Ronald McDonald for making our children fat.  She claims he and “his cohorts are pervy child predators.”  Honestly, after reading a lot about her I think she has an eating disorder.  She is terrified of being fat.  Her family (mother, grandmother etc. are fat) so her actions in life are directly correlated with her fear of becoming obese.  While I think she needs some help I honestly believe she is a danger to herself and to society at large. She says she “wants to make the world a better place for fat people…by preventing people from becoming fat in the first place.”  What you should know is she has a BA in journalism and took an 8 month course on nutrition from an unaccredited school.  She considers herself a “Health Counselor, Integrative Nutrition.”  It reminds me of something comedian Dara O’Briain says, “A dietitian is to a nutritionist as a dentist is to a toothiologist.”  I think I am going to take a class in neurosurgery from the Learning Annex next weekend.  That way if this acting and writing thing doesn’t pan out I’ll  have something to fall back on.