Free Is My Bow Too Big? How I Went From Saturday Night Live to the Tea Party by Victoria Jackson Page A

was so high. I’d never been in a Baptist church this beautiful. Our churches back home had aluminum chairs, florescent lighting, concrete walls, and low ceilings of white rectangles with holes punched in them, and no windows. “It seems like the only roles for women are ‘bad girls’ unless you are in The Sound of Music. Maybe this is a test. Maybe if I turn down this role, God will give me a Sound of Music.”
    Pastor Lane’s eyes sparkled with joy and love. His manner was always peaceful. The Holy Spirit shined out of him like he was a lantern. “I think you should do the acting role to the best of your ability, and in your real life be the best Christian wife and mother you can be.”
    “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might,” came into my brain. “Even playing bad girls?” I asked God curiously.
    In the movie I Love You to Death , I bravely auditioned for the famous director Lawrence Kasdan ( The Big Chill ). I even cried at my audition, on purpose. I was acting my heart out for the role of Lacey, Kevin Kline’s character’s mistress. I got the role, but then, I was told that I had to pose in a series of negligees and bras and panties so that the director could pick my wardrobe for the scene. Oh my. Well, a bra and panties is the same as a bikini bathing suit. I had knots in my too-puffy stomach. Waiting in the parking lot outside the wardrobe department, I met Kevin Costner.
    He said, “What are you doing here?”
    I said, “I’m supposed to get the director’s okay on my wardrobe for I Love You to Death . Are you in it?”
    “No, I’m just a friend of Larry’s.”
    I wished I were the friend of a famous director. It must help in getting roles; then again, maybe not.
    I said, “Oh. I’m so nervous.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I have to model underwear for him.”
    “So?” This guy was confrontational and cold.
    “Well, besides being a Christian and being taught to be modest, my stomach is poofy. I did just have a baby. Well, a year ago,” I sighed.
    “My wife had two babies and her stomach is flat,” Kevin bragged.
    A few years later, I read that Kevin’s wife was divorcing him for cheating on her. Well, I reasoned, I guess a flat stomach doesn’t guarantee fidelity. Maybe poofy isn’t a deal breaker.
    I left Kevin to look at a rack of lingerie choices. They were all way too skimpy. I was clammy. My head was swirling. What if I get fired when he sees my body? That would be psychologically hard to recover from.
    Why didn’t I fast for the last few days? Oh yeah, I did. I picked out a few outfits and asked where a changing room was. The wardrobe designer looked a bit exasperated. I guess she was used to exhibitionists. One actress friend of mine often answered her trailer door naked and once said to a roomful of us, “My boyfriend thinks my breasts are fake because they are so perfect!” while admiring them in the mirror nude.
    I took my “nerves of steel” from my gymnastic training and put them in place. I stood in front of the wardrobe lady. “Where is Mr. Kasdan?”
    She directed me to another room. He was there. He stared at my clothed body critically. I giggled and posed nervously, then ran to the changing room. I returned to be observed in my underwear. “I feel so naked,” I said, laughing nervously.
    Mr. Kasdan looked. He said, “Hmm. What else do you have?”
    The wardrobe lady chattered and swung hangers back and forth for Mr. Kasdan as he looked on with his famous artistic director’s eye.
    He hates my body , I thought.
    “What else do you have?” he asked.
    Oh man. Does he mean underwear or actress bodies? I’m a mutant. I’m like a big fat man with a high voice. I’m the hunchback of Notre Dame, and finally the secret is out. Everybody knows. Somehow, some bikini underwear outfit was chosen. I have no memory of it because my brain clicked off somewhere during the third outfit.
    My agent called the next day.
    “Am I fired?” I mumbled