In this article: Career clips A "Cheers" reunion?

COVER STORY

Kirstie Alley weighs in

... on her latest TV venture, a pseudo-reality show in which she plays herself. And on the trials of life as a "Fat Actress" in thin-obsessed Hollywood.

By Michele Hatty

"I don't have some disease. I don't have the fat gene. But I have a character flaw, which is I have a tendency to get out of control, and I have to rein it back."

Kirstie Alley knows she's fat. In fact, the actress, who shone on the small screen as the sexy, straight-talking Rebecca Howe on "Cheers" in the '80s and '90s, freely admits that when she hit 203 pounds early last year, she was, indeed, fat. Not tubby, chubby, overweight, large, big-boned or even plus-sized. At 5 feet, 8 inches and north of 200 pounds, she was full-on fat.

For a while, she tried to ignore it. But the ever-increasing presence of her image plastered across the covers of the supermarket tabloids became harder and harder to dismiss. She knew the paparazzi used different tricks to make stars appear worse than in reality -- like dropping cameras to the ground and shooting upward to make people appear bigger or out of proportion. But after a while, even she could not deny her weight had gotten out of control.

"I was fatter than I had ever been. But it sort of crept up on me," Alley explains as she curls up on the peach-colored sofa in the den of her kitschy 1920s-era mansion in the Hollywood Hills.

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The actress, 54, talks about the good things that have come from finally owning up -- in a very public way -- to her unhappiness with her weight, namely, her new Showtime series, "Fat Actress," which debuts March 7, and her upcoming book, a diary-type memoir titled "How to Lose Your A-- and Regain Your Life: Reluctant Confessions of a Big-Butted Star." And she's not at all afraid to talk frankly about what becoming fat has cost her: jobs, romance, even some of the simple conveniences she appreciated back when she was, yes, thin.

But first, let's talk numbers. Alley doesn't hold back. " 'Skinny' for me would be under 125. 'Fine' would be under 140. 'Beefed up' would be 160, 170. Anything above that is 'fat,' " she says matter-of-factly, sipping Crystal Light from the cut-glass pink goblet her assistant has just delivered. "But my lifetime average weight is about 137."

Truth be told, the two-time Emmy winner does not really look that fat when you are just sitting across from her. When this is observed, she replies with mock anger, "What, were you expecting some grotesque creature?"

No. But considering some of the tabloid photos, not to mention big-type headlines screaming out numbers like 300 pounds (a gross exaggeration, Alley says), it's easy to see why one might think she's come undone.

For a while, she did. Overwhelmed by the attack of the tabs, being passed over for acting jobs and general dismay over the way her body was ballooning, she broke down. "Last year around this time, I went through about a three- to five-day period where I was staying in bed and I wouldn't come out of my room. I thought: 'I'm fat. I'm done. I'm washed up. This is the end of the road for me,' " she recalls, pulling a shearling throw over her lap and looking intently with her clear green eyes.

"I was losing work left and right because casting agents were seeing tabloid stories that had me at 280, 320 pounds. It got to the point where I wasn't even sure what I looked like. On the cover of one, there'd be this horrendous picture with this 100-pound-overweight exaggeration that I supposedly weighed," she shares. "And the next week, they would snap beautiful pictures of me. Not that I didn't know I was heavy. But it was like, Which do I look like? This monster? Or this pretty girl here? It became confusing."

Long divorced from actor Parker Stevenson, Alley also found herself putting romance on the back burner. "I know women who are big and sexy and have men fawning over them, and they have a lot going on for them," she says. "But they're comfortable in their skin. When I got fat, especially in the last year and a half, which I consider really fat, I just went, 'Oh, my God. I wouldn't be comfortable having a relationship with someone.' I want to look good."

Her perspective changed in other ways, too. "Being overweight is a real inconvenience. The world is built for the average-sized person. And rightfully so. At one point, I thought, 'They're making airplane seats littler.' Well, they're not making the seats littler; my [butt] is bigger!" she says.

"My body used to be convenient. I didn't have to worry about how I looked in clothes or what to wear. Now I do. And it's harder to be active, to play with my kids," she says, referring to son True, 12, and daughter Lillie, 10. "I used to be an acrobat sort of gymnast girl. I used to do handsprings a lot. Last summer, I did a cartwheel and almost broke my wrist!"

A Scientologist, she credits her new attitude to the religion's emphasis on self-reliance: "I was totally dramatizing being a victim of life, and it was obnoxious. So I stopped. And where it led me, within 24 hours, was: I want a series, and chances are I'm not going to get one while I'm this fat. So I'll create one about a fat girl trying to get serious. It was cathartic for me."

The loosely scripted comedy follows a fat but fictitious Alley attempting to make a Hollywood comeback. Like the real Alley, TV Alley deals with all the temptations of life -- plus the added pressure in Hollywood to remain thin -- with varying degrees of success. In the series' opening scene, we find Alley facing the dreaded scale, only to drop to the floor bawling when she realizes just how heavy she is. It's jarring, raw and pretty darn funny.

In shooting such scenes, the actress began to face up to a big truth in her own life: She really did need to lose weight.

"It was not going to be an easy fix. I had 60 or 70 pounds to lose. I'd gotten myself into a pickle," she says, laughing. So, she signed on as the pitchwoman for a popular weight-loss program and, at press time, was down 12 pounds. She also looked to friends for support.

Longtime pal Kelly Preston, who has a recurring role on "Fat Actress" as a diet guru who gives truly awful advice, says Alley's cheerful spirit will help her win this battle. "She makes everything fun," Preston says. "Recently, we were in the pool with our kids, and Kirstie decided to lead us in an impromptu 'swimmercize' class. It was hilarious! She's not going to let extra weight rule her life."

Alley offers up one final reality check. "Look, I don't consider being fat one of the world's great problems. I mean, proof positive, the tsunami. That's a tragedy," she says, eyes flashing. "I am frankly humiliated and ashamed that I spent days in bed worried about how fat I was. If that's all my life is, I'm a big loser."

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A "Cheers" reunion?
Kirstie Alley fittingly keeps her Emmys behind a speakeasy-style bar nestled into a corner of her den. The sight of them leads to the most pressing question of all: Will there be a "Cheers" reunion?

"There isn't one that I know of in the works. But I would die to do one!" Alley shrieks enthusiastically. "My ideal would be to do a reunion show but act like we've all worked there the last 12 years. Not have it be a special, just an episode. That's what I would love -- with us all still losers working at "Cheers." They need to do that. Wouldn't that be fun?" -- M.H.

Photograph by Michael Grecco for USA WEEKEND