Jason's Room

Lives of the Secretly Fat

I like to think of myself as somewhat of an expert on being "Secretly Fat."

If "Secretly Fat" was a martial art, I'd be a black belt.  If it was a militia, I'd be an Admiral.  If it was a kingdom, I'd be "King Jason, Ruler of Secretly Fat-alot."

If you're thinking, "Jason, you're NOT fat,"... oh, you have NO idea.  Believe me!---I know what I am, and I own it (just as much as I attempt to hide it).

For those who don't know, the "Secretly Fat" aren't especially big guys.  We're NOT described as "fat" or "husky" or even "big-boned."  Conversely, we're not admired for having well-built bodies either,... but we're just not considered "fat,"... at least with our clothes on.

You know you've encountered one of us, if you've taken a guy home who insists on keeping his shirt on during sex,... and if you've pleaded with him by saying "Oh, I don't care!  Just take it off!  You're not fat!  You're hot!" (AND if alcohol was involved), you may have had the unfortunate experience of actually seeing the truth (usually followed by the mental thought "Oh dear gawd. That was a surprise.  He sure hides it well!" and your best attempt to bring the sexual act to completion as quickly as possible).

Of course, those "Secret Fatties" broke the number one rule of "Secret Fat-ism":  NEVER take off your shirt.---We don't go to the beach.  (The tanning salon is our skin-cancer method of choice, even in the depths of summer.)  We avoid pool parties and circuit parties,... in favor of darker, more dimly lit environments,... especially ones that involve the fully-clothed consumption of alcohol.

You see, booze is one of our closest friends... and greatest enemies.---When the people around us are drunk, they're more likely to fall for our illusion.  HOWEVER, as we drink more and more alcohol, the risk of being discovered dramatically increases.  All it takes is one unfortunate raised arm that lifts the shirt just high enough,... and the fantasy is over.

OH, being "Secretly Fat" takes WORK.  For instance, when in the company of others, you can never sit... ever.  To do so would cause certain parts of the body to squeeze together and stick out.

But what about going out for dinner, you say?---Well, first of all, we "Secretly Fat" avoid eating in public places as much as possible, even with friends.  (We usually make excuses to meet up with friends later, after they've dined and preferably after they've had a couple drinks.) 

However, IF forced into a "public eating" situation, we sit with our chairs pressing our chests firmly against the table... and order a small salad.  (Oh, but don't worry!  We'll binge on more food than you can imagine, when we're at home alone!)

Even the correct stance of the "Secretly Fat" is an art form: shoulders back, stomach in,... every once in awhile cracking our neck (in a casual attempt to pull our faces skyward and smooth out our double-chin),... and of course, clothing is a major issue.  It doesn't have to be in fashion or stylish.  It just has to "hang" or "drape" a certain way.  Shirts can't look baggy, nor can they be too tight (and risk revealing the truth).

Now, please note: we "secretly fat" KNOW that we're not thought of as "skinny" or even "hot" (Our efforts can only go so far.), but as long as the grim reality of our folds of skin, the stretch marks, the flabby pockets of fat on both sides of our backs... As long as these horrifying physical traits stay relatively hidden, we're happy,... and we survive.

Oh, we often dream of making the lifestyle changes to eliminate these imperfections that we work so hard to hide,... but... we've got excuses ("I'm just too busy/stressed/fill-in-the-blank right now") that justify our condition for the moment and... we've just gotten SO good at hiding it... well...

Take me, for example.  This morning (July 31, 2007) was the first day I've been to my gym since... (wait for it, wait for it)... August 14th,... 2006.---Yes, I've been not attending (yet still paying the monthly membership dues for) my gym for almost an entire year.

You see, last year, I had been taking a "treadmill with weights" class, dropped a little of my weight, and actually got pretty good at it,... but then, my work schedule changed, conflicting with the treadmill class, and... I swore I was going to go back to do the workout on my own, but... then, I got sick,... and then, I got busy... and then, we hit the holiday season and I gained back the weight,... and I refined and strengthened my excuses... AND my skills at being secretly fat.

However, yesterday, I watched Jason Priestly on The View and remembered running next to him at the gym last year, and... on television, he looked pretty good,... much better than when I'd last seen him in person,... and whether he still attends my gym (Crunch) or not, he obviously hadn't given up on working out, like me.  So... since my work schedule had recently changed yet again and I had this morning free, I decided to return to the same treadmill class that I used to attend on Tuesday/Thursday mornings.

It wasn't more than five minutes into the class before the instructor sauntered up to my treadmill and leaned into my face.

"So, where did YOU disappear to?" he asked.

"Well, you see, my schedule changed at work," I replied, "and I couldn't come to your class anymore, and... well, to be honest,...  Remember your last class I attended?  Back in August of last year?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Well, that day was actually the last time I was here."

His eyebrows furrowed, and he looked at me confused.  "So, then, Jason... what gym have you been going to?"

"Heh," I replied with a laugh. "I don't belong to any other gym."

"Wow," he shook his head.  "You don't look like you're in bad shape."

I politely smiled, gave him wink, and said "Thanks."

Even at the gym.

"King Jason, Ruler of Secretly Fat-alot" had been successful, yet again.  :-)

Mission: Man Band

Yowza! This upcominmg series is so frightening to me on multiple levels.  I don't know which will be harder: watching the show... or facing myself in the mirror afterwards.
(Series Promo Below)

In Other (Old) News

I know that this clip has been out a while, but... it's so awesome!  I absolutely LOVE the look on Simon Cowell's face!

How I Want to Remember Her

With her over-the-top energy, excessive eye make-up, and tendency to cry till her mascara ran down her cheeks,... she seemed, at first, to be more like a cartoon character, than human.

I first became aware of Tammy Faye when most of the world did,... back in the 1980's, when the popularity of her and Jim Bakker's PTL ministry and Heritage City USA were at their peak,... and back then, I, like many others, was skeptical of her sincerity.

She just seemed... "too big" for me to take her seriously, and... yes, I know,... she just "loved the Lord so darn much," but... it just seemed so... excessive,... and almost inviting the mockery and ridicule of those who'd oppose her.

However, I did appreciate that she never used fear to appeal to viewers and financial donors.  She didn't preach "hell & brimstone."  She had simply found something that had made her happy, and she wanted others to be happy too.  When she cried, it wasn't out of fear of "the devil" or because others had "sinned."  She cried because others were suffering, and she wished she could help.  She also sometimes cried out of happiness because she was grateful.

The bottomline was,... at that time, although I questioned her motives/sincerity, I really didn't have a problem with her methods,... even if her style was a little extreme for my own personal tastes. 

Of course, when their ministry was exposed for the misuse of millions of dollars and fraud,... after Jim Bakker's sex scandal with Jessica Hahn went public,... I (like many others) immediately took the news as confirmation that my early skepticism had been correct.  I lumped Tammy in with every other "religious" leader who had been exposed for hypocrisy throughout history,... never questioning whether she'd actually ever known of the ministry's financial dealings (She didn't.) nor ever considering that it was her husband who had cheated on her.

I had thought she was a fake when I first saw her, and I regarded those scandals as my proof that I'd been right.

(Boy, nothing like some smug self-righteousness to make ya feel better about yourself, huh? *heh*)

In the immediate years that followed, I lost track of Tammy Faye,... until she seemingly reemerged on the public scene.  I accidentally caught an episode of her short-lived talk show with Jim J. Bullock.  Then, I saw the documentary The Eyes of Tammy Faye, and... realizing my own hypocrisy & self-righteousness, I definitely became a fan.

I think her stint on The Surreal Life was perhaps the most telling, in regards to who she really was.---I mean,... despite her personal religious beliefs, she always showed all of the roommates nothing but love.---Oh, yes, she declined going to the nudist colony and the psychic reading,... but that was her choice, and I respected that!  She still never said a bad word about anybody and loved everyone unconditionally.

I once asked Jim J. Bullock (who I'm now blessed to call a good friend) if the whole "Tammy Faye" character was all an act, and he instantly replied, "Oh, NO!  That's REAL!  That's HER!  What you see is what you get.  She's exactly the same way off camera and on,... though, ya know,... during that whole time we did the talk show, even I never saw her without her make-up."

I was upset when I learned that she had cancer in the 1990's, but was also in awe of her continued optimism, love, and bravery as she fought it.---I rejoiced each time she beat her cancer into remission and was so happy when she publicly stated that she was cancer free.

Of course, as you know, her last bout of cancer returned in 2005, and this time, proceeded to get worse.---I closely followed her son Jay Bakker's documentary series, One Punk Under God, and continued to be inspired each time she made an appearance.  Jay Bakker even spoke at our church one Sunday, last February, and gave us an update on his mom.  Jim J. also remained close to her and kept in touch with her over the phone.

Everyone kept saying, "It won't be long.  It won't be long.  She's the worst I've ever seen her."  Yet, she continued to pull through.

This past Saturday night at a bar, my friend Anthony said, "Isn't it sad that Tammy Faye died?" and... I was in shock.  "Oh, she's not dead," I replied. "She was just on Larry King this past week... I mean, I didn't see it, but I heard about it.  In fact, I even heard she'd gained a couple pounds."

"No, Jason," Anthony responded.  "She's gone.  Before I came out tonight, I read it online."

Well, I dismissed it and just continued drinking,... but when I woke on Sunday morning, I immediately logged on my computer to verify the news,... and yes, Anthony had been right.  I read through several of the articles posted about her death and then, walked back to our bedroom to get ready for church.

That's when I lost it.

For the first time in a LONG time, I cried so hard that my shoulders shook. 

I kept thinking, "She was SO loving to EVERYONE,... she was so FULL of love,... and now,... that HUGE source of love on earth is GONE, and...  How can we all not be worse off for the loss of it?"

And on an admittedly selfish, more personal level, I also cried because... well... even though I never met Tammy Faye,... I still always knew that, in my heart of hearts,... if I did meet her, she would love and accept me (NOT because I'm special,... but because that's what she did!) and... I don't know... In this day and age, where so many people don't accept or love... me,... you,... us... It's hard to learn that somebody who WOULD... who DID... isn't going to be there any more.

Then, I thought, "My gosh!  What a role model to emulate!"  I mean, I'd like to think of myself as a loving person, but... can you imagine being so loving and accepting that total strangers cry at your death for losing the mere potential to be loved by you?!?

With Tammy gone,... with the loss of that huge source of love on our planet,... it's our responsibility to fill that void to compensate,... to be even more loving to everyone around us,... because we don't have that beautiful woman around to pick up the slack for us anymore.

Last night, I was going to watch the Larry King retrospective about her, but when I went online to find the showtime, I saw a couple pictures from her interview with Larry, and I immediately closed my web browser.

She looked horrible.  So, I didn't watch the show because... that's not how I want to remember her.

I want to remember her as I first saw her... with her over-the-top laughter, impeccably excessive make-up, and mascara-filled tear drops that I know she would shed for me.

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From Tammy Faye's last note on her blog just last week:
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I try really hard to eat and keep the food down, but sometimes it is like my throat would just shut down on me, and the food comes right back up...

I ask in great humbleness that you pray that I will be able to eat without it coming back up.  I crave hamburgers and french fries with LOTS of ketchup!  When I can eat that again, it will be a day of victory!

In closing, I want you to know that I am praying for you and your loved ones...

I will let you know when I get to eat my hamburger!

Love,
Tammy Faye
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I hope you're enjoying your hamburger and french fries, Tammy.  Your love continues to inspire me, and you will be missed.---Save me some ketchup.
-your jason

Time (& People) Flying

I haven't posted in a while.  In fact, I really haven't done much of anything.---I've been crazy-busy at work, and I haven't even had a chance to visit the beach this summer.

I've been telling myself, "Okay, Jason. You've got to START enjoying this summer SOON,... before it's OVER.", and I've gotten a little frantic as I've seen signs of the ending of the season.

For instance, all of the summer blockbuster movies have, for all intensive purposes, come and gone.  Not long ago, there was a midnight opening every other week, but... no more.

"Oh, but what about Hairspray or The Bourne Supremacy or The Simpsons?"

Sorry.  Those don't count.  I consider the end of "summer blockbuster season" by the last movie in which people can fly (Yes, I know that Underdog hasn't opened yet, but he's not a person, okay?), and Harry Potter opened weeks ago.

Though I haven't done HALF of the things that I wanted to do this summer, I've continued to think that I still had a little more time before the ending of the season,...

And then, yesterday, I was slapped in the face by reality at Target.

So, I guess Summer 2007 is over.  *sigh*

Maybe I should start getting out my sweaters...

-your jason

 

Still Going for Length

Oy, my hair grows slowly...   *sigh*

I only get a "trim" every two months (just to clean it up), but... dang, this whole "long hair" thing is taking much longer than expected.

Yesterday, while attempting erase "unessential items" from my laptop's harddrive, I discovered a pic that I took on July 10th, 2006,... exactly one year ago today.

I have no idea why I took the picture.  (I think I remember having just returned home from the beach.)  However, I thought it might be fun to shoot a "One Year Later" photo today.---I'm definitely less tan than a year ago,... and I'm obviously more tired (as evidenced by the dark circles under my eyes...

But at least my hair is longer.  :-)

Reflections that Suck

On Saturday, while leisurely window shopping in West Hollywood with my boyfriend, I caught the reflection of my full body in a store display window.

I pretended to be gazing at the items behind the glass, while I noted how my t-shirt curved out against my stomach.

"Suck it in, Jason," I thought to myself.

However, as I attempted to tighten up my stomach muscles, I realized...

I was already sucking it in... unconsciously... (a common involuntary reaction for many of us when walking the streets inhabited by the beautiful specimens of WeHo).

*Oh, crap.*

I tensed my stomach muscles even further, attempting to pull the blob of fat back closer to my spine, desperately trying to make the bump disappear.

It didn't.

Even when pulling my shoulders all the way back and lifting my chest up to my chin, I still had enough of a bump that, if I were a female celebrity, the tabloids would accuse me of being pregnant.

Now, I've tolerated recent weight gain by labeling it as "temporary weight" that I would easily drop "as soon as I get through with (fill in blank)," and I've been deluding myself with this rationalization for... about 3 or 4 months.,.. and now,... I've reached critical proportions.

See, it's one thing to look significantly out of shape when I'm naked (no one is going to see that!),... but when I'm covered with clothing?!?!  Come on!---Oh, I never thought that anyone looked at me clothed and said, "Wow!  I bet he looks great naked!", but I felt... at least a little confident that, with the proper fitting clothes & appropriate lighting, I could at least keep the severeness of my reality a secret,...

But no more.

The fat lady is singing,... and by "fat lady", I mean "me."

I can't ignore this any longer.  The time has come to take drastic actions, starting immediately.

Short-term goal:  I want the middle digit on my scale to be a different number by the end of the week.  (That's really not as big a deal as it sounds.  The third digit isn't that high.)

I'm not asking for a washboard stomach or abs of steel...

I just want to wear clothes and NOT have a pregnant reflection,... even when I'm sucking it in.

Transforming

(Yes, I realize that this would have been much cooler had I blogged it earlier this week, but I still want to post it for posterity.)

Last Monday, the The Midnight Movie Mafia © (sans one member---Get better, Jerome!) saw Transformers,... NOT at 12:01am, but at an 8pm advanced screening in the Arclight Cinerama Dome!

We met at the Arclight complex at 7pm,...

...And the studio had just parked the actual vehicles from the film!

Of course, we immediately went to our usual perch at the upstairs bar for pre-movie "beverages"...

But as the hour neared, it became time to descend the lobby staircase and take our seats...

I, of course, had been closely watching the time (to make sure we didn't miss our 8 o'clock screening) by continually checking the clock on my cellphone,...

...when, suddenly, my cellphone... *kee ker koo koo*

(Go ahead.  Mock me.  You're just jealous. *wink*)

Producer Tom DeSanto introduced the film...

After a wonderful evening (and overjoyed at NOT having to go home at 3 o'clock in the morning!), the Mafia disbanded yet again, to go our separate ways.

Our overall review: Best 2007 Summer Blockbuster.
(If you haven't, you really should see it!)

peace,
your jason