If I was a celebrity…
I don’t really understand why so many people want to be famous. I have a closet full of skeletons (like the fact that I wore a sports bra with a nice top in my sixth grade picture. You can see it.) that never need see the light of day again. But if I were famous, I’d have to worry about a few things like…
My school pictures showing up. Umm, no thanks. I could give Mindy Kaling a run at her “androgynous child” award. Or the fact that I wore a Los Angeles t-shirt with knee length jorts in my fourth grade photo. I don’t know why I remember my outfits so clearly.
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| The ponytail is the only feminine thing in this photo. |
I’d run the risk of people seeing me after I cried. It’s ugly. U-G-L-Y, you ain’t go no alibi, ugly. Splotchy skin, red Rudolphic nose, swollen eyes. Yuck. It even lingers to the next day (like the day my husband commissioned and I met his parents).
Former schoolmates outing me as not being a cool kid. I’ve always been weird. Middle school was a particularly rough time. Square dancing in gym? Slow dancing at birthday parties? Let’s not delve into the world of being chubby and conforming with a private school dress code. Yikes.
What sorts of things would you want locked in your closet if fame came a-knockin?
