AN ILLUSTRATIVE PEEK AT WHY I'M GLAD I'M NOT A CELEBRITY
I would be on that "Stars: They're just like us" page on the regular, and not because I was adorably shopping with my perfectly-behaved children.
- •Yesterday: Wake up, get ready, head to work.Wearing cute "yay it's CBS Upfronts day so I wanna look festive" red dress with a black belt.
- •Sit at desk, make a little sandwich from materials in adorable little under-desk fridge, eat while watching the latest promo reel.Chew, swallow, repeat.
- •Breathe out. Hear a pop. Realize that I have BROKEN MY BELT IN HALF.Yes. The forcefulness of my exhale combined with the last bite of mini-sandwich was enough to snap my belt clean off.
- •Laugh, because what can you do. I mean, I already have total fucking body dysmorphia, it's not like this makes it any worse.It doesn't make it better, but it's oddly validating in an insane and depressing way.
- •Tell my assistant I just realized I left something at home and I'll be right back (before my 10am meeting), then scurry away before he can ask what.Or clock that my dress is hanging on me like a potato sack and not the chic cinched number I walked in with.
- •Drive home, feeling happy for the millionth time that I live so close to the lot.Extra thanks to @bonifaceviii for allowing us to live so close to my office. He is a hero.
- •Rush in, put on a new, hopefully sturdier, belt, rush out.Steve was home working on his dissertation and I don't think he even realized I was there.
- •Drive back to the lot, rushing because I have that meeting.Get out of car, close door, head towards building.
- •Make eye contact with the security guard standing outside.And realize that I have completely flashed him while inelegantly exiting my car.
- •"At least she wasn't too fat for her underwear!"...is what I imagine the snarky bloggers would write under the ensuing photo. You know, if I were a bold-faced name. Thank goodness I'm not.