The audition line was long. Those forming it were large. And though the chances of making it all the way onto NBC's hit series "The Biggest Loser" were slim, fun and laughter were evident.

Hopefuls who made it into Saturday morning's line stretching around the KSL studio block at 300 West and North Temple rose as early as 4 a.m. and traveled from as far as Boise. Sitting in lawn chairs that inched forward as the line shrank, they shared stories, self-deprecating litanies of failed attempts at losing weight and more than a few jokes.

"Everyone here knows that dessert is 'stress' spelled backwards," said Cecilia Budd, a Murray resident who works for the West Jordan Police Department.

"I have no idea how much I weigh," said Mark Gabbitas, a Bountiful resident. "All I know is that when I step on the scale it says, 'One at a time, please.'"

Said Justin Cram, a Salt Lake City computer technician waiting his turn: "It's been moving. It's been stirring. There are so many gorgeous fat people here. I love it."

Underlying it all, though, was a grave reminder: With their health endangered, and in a society where physical beauty is judged with a sometimes condescending eye, the weight must come off.

Ever since it first broadcast in 2004, the reality show paying upwards of $250,000 to season contestants who lose the highest percentage of body weight has been an inspiration to thousands of overweight Americans. Tired of suspect "before-and-after" photos advertising weight-loss remedies, they marvel as those lodging at the show's "ranch" lose weight not through gimmicks, but hard work and even sweat-soaked anguish.

Finishing up the show's brief, 8-minute group interview audition Saturday afternoon, Michael Young, 33, said he is unemployed despite his 10 years of management experience and graduating in the top 10 percent of both his graduate school class in health administration and his MBA class at the University of Utah.

"My weight's been holding me back, especially when you want a job in the health care field," said Young, who wants to shed 270 pounds off his current 450 pound frame.

Coming from a family that struggled with weight issues, Young said he saw his father die of a heart attack before age 50.

"I don't see this show as something that makes a spectacle of the overweight at all," Young said. "Instead it's a chance to do some incredible things with incredible people. Even though my legs hurt from standing in line for hours, I'd do it all again in a heartbeat for a chance at another audition."

Many pulled out all the stops in attempts to garner attention from the show's two casting directors, who scanned groups of eight contestants at a time sitting around two large tables inside the studio. Two shaved the show's logo on the back of their heads, with one donning a tape measure around her waist.

Melissa Garber, a 38-year-old teacher from Sandy hoping to lose 180 pounds, held up a chair leg she broke during her audition. "I could have cried, but I was filling out my application for 'The Biggest Loser.' In any other situation I probably would have gone out to eat," Garber said.

Allison Kaz, head of casting for all nine seasons of the show, said there is no specific type of person she looks for when choosing between 12 and 22 contestants for each season. Certain elements help, however, including personality, those "at their wits' end" when it comes to losing weight and, perhaps most important, determination.

An undisclosed number of Utah finalists received a "call back" before 5 p.m. Saturday, but casting directors encourage all contestants to send NBC self-produced home video auditions. Show producers want the fullest possible picture of contestants' lives and how they interact with others, Kaz said.

"Nobody wants to stand in front of all America in a sports bra and shorts to display their insecurities to the world," Kaz said. "We're not looking for people who want 15 minutes of fame. We're looking for real people committed to a goal. We want people viewers can root for, or be inspired by."

Several of those auditioning joked about a reality show with a premise opposite of "The Biggest Loser": a program that rewarded bulimics and anorexics for the most weight gained.

"I've known for a long time that I was bulimic," said Gabbitas. "I just can't purge."