Friday, August 13, 2010
As I sit here eating my not-so-vegetarian-friendly brunch, I am scrolling through the blog and the pictures of a girl I used to follow on LiveJournal. She was so fascinating to me because she lived this glamorous LA lifestyle: tons of friends, killer bod, yoga, clubbing, hookah, parties at the Playboy Mansion, living on her own in Malibu. Living in LA, I look around me, and I sometimes become envious. Sometimes I wish I could be one of these girls: vapid (yes I said it), beautiful, killer body, tons of friends, tons of parties, wealthy. Who wouldn't, right?
But then I take a step back and realize I couldn't be happy. This girl is always talking about her relationship problems; one cheating boyfriend after another. Best frenemies, backstabbers, fights, drama between other friends. Her friends and her broken family coming and going. No relationship is ever permanent. And that isn't my life. I have a great, loving husband who comes every night - a man, with amazing looks, who chooses to come home to his wife instead of getting drunk and tomcatting around. We are poor, but we are happy and in love. I have a great circle of friends who have always been there for me when I needed them and I for them. They have never stabbed me in the back.
Still, I sometimes fantasize. And in reality, I don't really want either of those things. Except the killer body. I'll take that.