I am nothing if not glamorous.
It is true. And in light of our fab-obsessed culture, I have decided to illustrate for you just how the glam-mer half lives â€“ by making a list of the super-fabulous things I did before noon today alone that qualify me for my own reality TV program, narrated by Robin Leach (or some other classy sounding British dude).
My Glamorous Morning
7:12 a.m. Stepped in cat vomit.
7:14 a.m. Cleaned up cat vomit. While bending over cleaning, got cat vomit in my glamorously long hair. Swish! Gasp! Puke!
8:16 a.m. Retrieved favorite black sweater from laundry basket (having been way too glamorous to do laundry this weekend). Shook it out. Wore it. For like, the ninth time. Glam alert!
9:31 a.m. Sniffed milk, decided it was questionable. Poured it into coffee.
10:50 a.m. Found an unwrapped piece of gum in the bottom of my purse. And ate it.
I should really stop there. I donâ€™t want you all thinking Iâ€™m unapproachable, or that my lifestyle is unattainable to the common man. Itâ€™s not! Even I had years of training â€“ and from the most unlikely of sources. My own baby sister used to eat dried worms off the sidewalk.