Hello from the beach!
Yesterday my Facebook page reached 1,000 likes! I was so excited I posted a status update:
One of my friends immediately texted me:
“What will you wear??? So many things to do before you hit the Red Carpet!”
I decided that I’d probably wear a swimsuit to the awards ceremony – a Land’s End skirted swimsuit horror, accessorized with my oversized mom-purse and cheap shades I buy from CVS because I lose expensive ones, and more importantly, because I imagine they make me look a little bit Angelina Jolie-ish.
On the Red Carpet when Ryan Seacrest says, “Tell us what are you wearing,” I would explain to him that labels are not important, function is. That I’m wearing a Land’s End skirted swimsuit horror because I imagine it might cover my upper thighs which no one wants to see, but it really doesn’t, and because after the ceremony instead of attending Elton John’s star-studded party, I am planning to hit the kiddie pool with my children: my outfit says I am a mom who has over-parented, it says efficient, focused. It says MOM.
On my way up to the stage (where Bradley Cooper would be waiting for me) I’d stop at random tables to rub sunscreen on pale faces (Nicole Kidman and Cindy Lauper, for starters!), to prevent them from getting burnt when they go outside. Bradley would be beaming at me in all of my maternalness (even though he doesn’t have children…he would understand). As I made my way past the tables I’d hand out bruisy bananas and smushed Nutrigrain bars from the bottom of my purse to skinny people like Renee Zellwegger who my mothering instinct tells me might be hungry, might seriously need to eat a sandwich. As Renee gratefully wolfs down the smushed – but nutritional – Nutrigrain bar I’d pause and whisper discreetly into George Clooney’s ear: “Do you need to go potty?” George would say “No, but thank you for being so considerate. Will you take me to the potty if I need to go pee-pee later?”
I’d make my way up to the stage without falling the way Jennifer Lawrence did because I’m wearing a skirted swimsuit, not a Dior gown.
“I would like to thank the moms and dads for Liking me. I don’t know who you are but every little red “Like” notification makes my heart surge and my blood pressure go down a teeny bit. You like me! You really, really like me! Thank you!” – and on my way out, I’d be a maverick. Instead of swanning offstage with the supermodel escort to go and be interviewed, I would go back down the stairs and dart from table to table putting little squirts of hand sanitizer into people’s palms and reminding them to brush the arugula out of their teeth before bed.
And then I’d jump in my minivan and head to the kiddie pool, but I would have to stop at the store first to get more sunscreen, hand sanitizer, and Nutrigrain bars…worried about whether or not George would make it to the potty.
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