Admittedly, I’ve spent too much time this morning scrolling through the Instagram of a gorgeous young actress, admiring her clothes and her friends and her work and her life, thinking, “My GAWD, young lady, but you have so much to look forward to! I envy you!”
But do I?
(Maybe. A little. Who doesn’t want to be a goddess just a little bit?)
One of the blunt realities that hit me like a cartoon mallet when I was going through the She Should Run Incubator–that popped up again and again as I read through several autobiographies of female politicians–was that I am not cut out for public life. I am introverted, impatient, unforgiving of people who waste my time with bullshit or double-talk, occasionally aloof, and hardly diplomatic. Yes, I have a customer service voice and I use it when I need to but politics isn’t exactly a 9 to 5 and there are times I have failed so spectacularly at being agreeable that I’ve had to apologize for my lack of professionalism.*
*Although through many years of practice and significantly raised stakes, I’ve gotten better. Not wanting to lose your house is a good enough reason to take an insult from a customer now and then.
When it comes right down to it, I would rather fly right under the radar than constantly have to apologize for my many mistakes. I could never be a politician. Or an actor. Or anything that drew any attention. I can’t handle the responsibility of it.
This is all to say that, by the way, I write under a pseudonym.
And that celebrity is nonsense. I mean, good for you if that’s what you want but to live in a culture where we’re all supposed to want it? Lies and nonsense. I’ll maintain my lifelong membership in the Stay Home Club, thanks.