Published: May 14, 2009 04:00 pm      

Why I am the biggest loser

When I hear the phrase “the biggest loser,” I do not think about the reality television show on NBC about weight loss. A popular reality show, the plot is about contestants who want to lose more weight than the others to win prize money and the right to be called “The Biggest Loser.” I get the play on words, which describes a winner using a negative word like loser. It is a catchy title, but I think I am a real big loser (sometimes) when it comes to daily life.

The word “loser” brings to mind a mental picture of my brother making an “L” with his fingers and pointing his hands straight in my direction. Always a faithful little brother, he seemed to enjoy all of my biggest loser moments, especially those involving stupid and careless mistakes. My biggest loser moments are not tied to weight loss, fitness challenges or epiphanies about life. Instead, my biggest loser moments are truly seconds, minutes and hours of mini-failures. It is times I goof, mess up and shamefully wonder what just happened in a matter of seconds to ruin a perfectly good day. These moments usually involve car keys.

The best biggest loser moment happened last spring. Gearing up for a morning run at the gym, I slipped out of my house with a bottle of water, a music device and no car keys. Standing on my porch, the sun barely peeking over the mountains, I stood with no car keys. After five minutes of standing — the front door and the vehicle locked — the only solution was to run to the parent’s house, two miles away. However, Route 20 in between Glenwood and Princeton is not the best running route in the two Virginias. But with no phone, I set out on a desperate run for the extra set of keys. I had to wake up my parents and find an extra set of keys, before the majority of the East Coast had even made it out of bed.

My parents are always a witness to moments of unclear thinking. At a former job in Tazewell, I stopped at a gas station after work, pulled up and started pumping gas into my car. Feeling the winter chill, I hurried into the station to pay and rushed back to the car. My keys dangled in the ignition. I pulled on the handle, holding my breath. It was locked. I didn’t have any cell phone service and I remember walking back into the station to use the phone. Forty five minutes from home, I stood in the chip and dip aisle, waiting for my dad to bring the extra set of keys. Wordlessly he handed over the keys and I climbed into my car, thankful for the silent treatment.

If my dad wasn’t around to deliver keys, I could always count on my mom. On a hot summer day, I whipped the car into a car wash, eager to rinse away the dirt and grime. Loaded up on quarters, I grabbed the soapy handle and rushed to beat the ticking clock. After the brush, I rinsed the car clean and grabbed the handle, pleased with my effort. It didn’t budge. It didn’t open. I pushed my face up to the window and stared through the window. My keys sat in the passenger seat, gleaming next to piles of change. I glanced behind the car and already a line began forming for the car wash. I walked to the next car in line and explained why I was camping out at the car wash. The man rolled his eyes and put his car in reverse. I swear I heard him mutter something about being a loser.

I have locked the keys in the car while working at the Bluefield Daily Telegraph. In the summer months, I am not content to stay inside for lunch and often retreat to the vehicle for a quick bite and a lunch conversation with a friend. Last summer, tired from a long day at the office, I searched for the car keys. I looked in my purse. Nothing. I opened all the drawers in the desk. Empty. I looked in my pockets, in the lunch room and even in the floor. No keys. With a sinking feeling, I walked outside to the vehicle. And in the evening light, a pair of keys winked back from the floorboard. I sat outside on the picnic table, waiting for the extra set. As co-workers walked by, I had to explain my biggest loser moment.

Since the DMV first handed over my drivers license more than 12 years ago, I have managed to lock the keys up at home, work, school, gas stations, car washes and at friend’s houses. And all of these can be accurately described as biggest loser moments. I lose my keys quite often, even around the house. When it comes to those keys, I have a walking “L” stamped on the front of my forehead. No matter how hard I try, I know it will happen again. It is inevitable. I will lose or lock myself out again. I do not need a fancy vocabulary to describe a pattern of careless mistakes and funny mishaps. No pun on words or creative title, these stories — not to mention the ones to come — are my biggest loser moments. It is reality, just not on a scale.

Jamie Parsell is the Lifestyle editor at the Daily Telegraph. Contact her at jparsell@bdtonline.com