Sunday, 10.9.05: Out with the Old
The
other night I went to a gathering of women where we were supposed to
bring a symbol of something we wanted to get rid of and throw it into
the bonfire. I brought a cardboard cutout representing my dullest self
-- the self who wears baggy pants and raggedy old t-shirts, the
no-lipstick self who comfortably fades from view and makes no
impression. Into the fire she went.
Yesterday I spend all day scanning and formatting 113 Hollywood studio portraits -- large format photos of 1920s and 30s actresses -- icons of cool style.
So why don't I feel glamorous!?
Maybe -- for starters -- because (while I was incinerating my frumpy side) I ate and drank enough to pack on 3 pounds of bloat. How did the bon vivants on Sex & the City manage to eat and drink so much and still look gorgeous? I guess that's the essence of fantasy.
But it wouldn't hurt for me to back up my bonfire ritual and fantasies with some action...
...
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