Red Carpe Diem

In a towel, preferably red, I'd stand in front of the foggy mirror and deliver my oscar speech. I'd thank my parents, my agent, my director, my amazing husband, my dog, my garbage man, all the people who ever disliked me because I'd made it and they hadn't... etc. I'd wrap and unwrap the towel to try and find the most flattering drape. I'd picture showing up on the red carpet: wet hair and everything, and when asked about my appearance (like, why my hair was wet) I'd tell the reporters that it was a choice and that I was making a statement about being wet and the important message that should send out to women everywhere. WE SHOULD ALL BE WET!

I will always desire the tallest and sharpest point at the tippy-top of the Hollywood food-chain. I often dream of coming back to my high school and/or college reunions with Oscars, Golden Globes, and SAG awards sewn into the lining of my mink coat that I'd take off at the front door of the gymnasium we'd have our reunion in. As the 10,000 dollar fur is lifted off my shoulders my mere presence in the room will blind people. Who's that? They'd whisper to themselves. That couldn't be...Natalie, could it? I heard she recently starred in that film we've all heard of and gave the performance of the century. And I'd chuckle at the attention while reaching for a deviled egg.

Now that I'm a little older and wiser I look at those women, my age, walking the line; cameras and lights flashing in front of them with every step. I think of all the hard work those people have to do everyday. I'm not talking about memorizing lines, showing up to call at 6am for make-up, wearing a ton of beautiful costumes or flying around to different locations. I mean, the work part of being that famous. The little things in life that suddenly become very big and difficult, like: grocery shopping or taking a walk in the park. Being a famous actress they probably have to monitor what they're eating at all times, work out constantly, and then be torn apart by the press and fans over looking too fat or too thin. That's the work I don't want. I don't want to be so famous that I can't be anonymous.

I do, however, want to be successful. And I want to be successful enough so that when I do show up for the reunion and come in the door, no one stops talking because a famous person walked in, but when I join a conversation, people will be impressed by what they've heard about about the projects I'm involved in.

When I'm really having interviews in real life, and I make the occasional appearances on a Red Carpet, my "towel" (that I imagined in the bathroom mirror) would actually be a vintage 1960's style Versace, with the sleeves off my shoulders and a small understated diamond earring in each ear. Then, I'll go back home and make pig-nosed faces in the mirror and pretend I was a person who did nothing with their life and play with my towel so I looked like a bum. And when asked by an imaginary documentary maker as to why my hair was wet I'd say: GIVE ME FOOD AND I'LL TELL YOU ABOUT THE ALIENS! Because playing into a mirror is too damn fun to stop.