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I have no desire to be famous.  I will likely never reveal my name on here and I’m the one sitting on the edge of any party over six people.  But I am curious–fascinated would be too strong a description–about fame.  And famous people.

I’m pretty sure I would not like most celebrities in person (even though for years I kept “a list” of the three with whom I was allowed to sleep: Tom Brady, Derek Jeter and Tommy Lee Jones).  At the top of my dislike list is Julia Roberts.  I can’t watch her movies.  Her nasal voice is irritating and she just seems like a jerk.  At the other end of the spectrum, I think Sandra Bullock would be a delight in person.  Also on my short list of people I don’t think I’d like: Victoria Beckham (she’s got a great career and a hunk of a husband and yet I’ve never seen a single picture of her smiling), and Angelina Jolie.  I’m sorry, I just don’t see anything attractive about her and it’s not cool to steal someone’s husband, though obviously Brad had a part in that.

I can’t imagine not being able to run to the drugstore to get tampons in privacy.  Or having every pound I put on documented.  But that is the trade-off for being able to demand tons of money for a few months of work and celebs who act irritated with the attention they get annoy me.  If you just want to practice your craft without the hassle of fame, then stick to community theater.

I will admit to being jealous of some stars, not because of their fame, per se, but because they truly seem to have everything.  Catherine Zeta-Jones is the first who comes to mind. I think she’s beyond gorgeous, I almost have a girl crush on her (or maybe more than almost…), she’s a great actress, has a sexy voice, a body to-die-for, and she can even sing and dance.  (If you have not seen “Chicago,” please turn this blog off, immediately locate the movie and enjoy the next two hours.  It’s in my top five.)  And then I learn of her bipolar disorder and that makes me like her even more.  She’s human after all.  I’m still envious of her physical perfection, but I know that her mood disorder (I know a ton about BP) causes her so much pain. I think I’d like her in person and my heart goes out to her.

I’ve been envious of other actresses and then watch as they are dumped, struggle with weight gain, audition for roles that go to someone else, and basically deal with all of the crap that normal people do.  Theirs just seems more glamorous and maybe I think their problems are fixed quicker than mine.  They have “people” to pick up the loose ends.  But honestly, only time really helps a broken heart (plus a good rebound guy, which they probably get faster, but we get too).

So I wonder if my life is really THAT much different than theirs.  I mean, I sometimes post pictures of what I’m having for dinner on Facebook–yes, I’m one of those people–thinking that someone is actually interested!  I get construction worker whistles, especially when I’m riding in my convertible with the top down, so that must be like having paparazzi.  People recognize me when I go places, though mostly neighbors and friends’ parents.  But still, my life can’t be that much different.  We all still have to get out of bed in the morning, no matter how we feel on the inside.  We have to find an outfit that we think doesn’t make us look too terrible.  And we have to get on with our day.  Fame doesn’t guarantee mental or physical health.  It doesn’t guarantee a perfect figure.  It doesn’t guarantee an easy day.

So I guess the next time I happen to run into Julia Roberts, I will resist the urge to punch her.  After all, we probably…No  I won’t even say it.  She’s nothing like me and I won’t like her.  But maybe I’ll give Victoria Beckham a chance.  Maybe her tight clothes cut off her breathing and prevent her from smiling.

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