The six-week wait wasn’t for you? Four months pregnant with a five-month-old baby sleeping at home. Two preschoolers totaling four, you keep it up at a rapid pace. Four children birthed, four books written and a reality show to act out your reality for your adoring fans. You smile and admit to the Today Show host that even as you forgo sleep to keep up with your perfect, busy life, you can’t help but love every single minute.
Watching you from the foot of my bed, I am astounded by the unearthly glow of your white blonde hair under the hot studio lights. Its luminescence frames your face, mirrored by hands down below cradling your belly, and I wonder how you are able to achieve the effect. A natural brunette turned platinum blonde, brought to you by Hollywood magic. No roots, no grey. Extensions? A trick of lighting brilliance? A wig? I know that you Tori Spelling wouldn’t risk one of your many precious pregnancies for beauty’s sake alone.
Appearing on the Today show to discuss your penchant for party planning, you have brought your many creative ideas to life. I watch as you explain your wholehearted belief in the mini. Mini appetizers, mini cupcakes, mini minds and one regular pastry-covered Brie cheese to be served only after being cut into the more appropriate bite sized mini pieces. You emphatically explain that larger versions of the minis would only destroy the carefully applied makeup of your guests. I enjoy how you hang cute labels neatly on the neck of each liquor bottle and have decided to resurrect the formerly, sadly rejected carnation. You will champion an underdog as you entertain the stars. I marvel at your discovery that party planning at home allows you to spend time with your children and you craft with them as a family unit. I envision your preschoolers perfectly icing each cupcake as your infant designs the liquor labels. My children would smear the floor with your mini cupcakes, suck on your liquor labels and snack on your cheese wheel to regain their strength. They would not craft with you, they would craft you Tori Spelling.
How on earth do you get it all done? It occurs to me that maybe something is amiss. Did you write your books? Do you bake your cupcakes? Do you care for your multitude of children? You sweetly reference your mother’s detailed party planning, whom you had long rejected for socializing in lieu of raising you, as the inspiration for your so similar talent. The audience cheers as you have come full circle. Your Hollywood destiny has been fulfilled. Tell the truth now because I want to celebrate something real. Don’t you see how every image on my television, computer and the magazines I buy are airbrushed and a lie? Plastic surgery together with endless beautifying techniques, have developed a new breed of human being morphing my expectations and self-esteem. Our society veers into unrecognizable frontiers. I don’t even enjoy the porn on Showtime, six months of which was gifted to me free of charge when I cancelled my no longer needed home phone line. I can’t help myself from examining the actors, picking apart the real body parts from the fake, freak shows that they are.
Is your three-year-old daughter happy? Because my three-year-old daughter whose hair has been slow to grow cries because she wants her hair as long and voluminous as the Disney princesses she adores. A passion encouraged not by me but apparently cranked into her DNA at conception by Walt Disney himself. A straight shot from the afterlife to my unborn daughter understood only by God and the masters of marketing, unbelievably adept behind their great curtain whose work we accept without question. I suggest to my daughter that Snow White, who has short hair just like her, is beautiful just like her. Fuck Snow White. She is clearly a holdout, an outsider. It’s only a matter of time before she caves. My daughter looks at me with big blue eyes determined in her three year old desire.
I would complain to my two dimensional social network but I only have three hundred and forty four friends at present and possibly no one will “like” my comment. I am currently trolling for number three hundred forty five to round out my profile. I can only pray it will give my page a more presentable appearance. Could it be you Tori Spelling? I can ice cupcakes. I can print labels. We can have play dates with all of our children, and you can tell me your secrets to the perfect platinum blonde Hollywood hair. I can listen to how your mother ignored you and watch as you simultaneously ignore your children, but I won’t judge you Tori Spelling, really I won’t. Don’t worry. I want to believe that you’re the real deal. I just bet you’re different than the others. Because when push comes to shove there was a part of me that knew I loved you the moment I saw you aglow under the Today Show lights this morning.
Love, your willing to star fuck you silly, potential BFF,