So there's a certain anti-depressant that I take. I won't mention which one I'm on specifically, but I will tell you that one of its side effects is weight gain. Let me also point out these two facts: I live in Los Angeles AND I spend a decent chunk of change each month on health insurance.
Now, before I started taking the stuff that I'm on, I knew that one of the side effects was weight gain. That's why I tried to get a different type of antidepressant. Maybe I'll try the "W" or the "C", I thought. So I got a prescription from my doctor for either the "W", "C", or "Z". Can't remember which one. Doesn't really matter. What matters is that when I went to get the prescription filled up, the pharmacy told me my insurance wouldn't cover it. Huh? Before I could try any of the other anti-depressants, I'd have to try this one first. The choice? Spend $130 or $10? I chose ten, and started taking these things.
Aside from excruciating migraines, nausea and projectile vomiting, I felt wonderful. For the first time in my life I was able to enjoy an episode of "Saved by the Bell" without feeling judged! I stopped hiding my DVD of the first three seasons of "SBTB", and displayed it prominantly on my Ikea media tower, alongside my Joan Collins first edition of "Love, Desire & Hate".
Life was grand...until I thought it'd be cute to wear a certain outfit for one of my shows. As I hiked up an old pair of jeans, I discovered the fit was dramatically more glove-like than the last time I'd worn them. I could no longer fit into them comfortably. This doesn't happen to me. Ever. I never literally get too big for my britches. Somehow, I did now.
To add to this textile debacle, consider, also, the fact that I run/hike for at least an hour four days a week. This is not an activity I adore. As I've said before, I'm lazy. Running and lazy don't go together. My commitment, however, is to find my next job. And since this is Hollywood, good things come to those who starve and/or exercise excessively.
Imagine my chagrin to find out that during my time of joy, I'd gained about 50 pounds. 50 pounds! All right, maybe a couple pounds less than 50. Closer to forty than to fifty certainly. And there's a slight possibility it was even less than ten pounds. The point is, I couldn't fit into my jeans, and I could sense that Hollywood might leave me for another woman.
So my question is this: How can a company market an "anti-depressant" when said antidepressant causes weight gain? Think about it. What's the one question every man on this planet dreads to hear? "Honey, does this make me look fat? Do I look fat in this? Me fat?" And if every hack comedian is to be believed, the wrong answer to that loaded question will catapult the woman into a shame spiral. And I think it's safe to say that if you're in a shame spiral, your antidepressants aren't working.
But maybe if I lived in the midwest I'd feel differently. After all, Midwesterners are salt of the earth, down-to-earth, no-bullshit types. They eat, drink beer and are happy. And if they're not happy, they're not exactly complaining about it. They're tough and practical. It's one reason I love Chicago. There's not a lot of BS, just bull...on hotdog buns, hamburger buns, etc. Even the vegetarian restaurants serve beef.
I digress. I will be switching brands as soon as I can. I refuse to work out and gain weight at the same time. So I'd like to shame the company that foisted this evil product on us. I'd mention the medication by name, but I'd probably get sued.
Also, podcast is less close than shoutcast. _ _ _cast. There are three lil' letters before the cast part. In addition, it's a service. You can get it for free or purchase it. I got it for free, got addicted to it, then purchased it. _ _ _cast is the new Bejewled for me.
By the way, I hate when people say blank is the new blank. As you can gather, I hate myself. But I love all of you.