The one where I talk about why my dreams won’t come true.

Turing 40 has caused me to realize several things:

  • I will never be interviewed by Barbara Walters. I used to have this reoccurring daydream of Barbara Walters interviewing me for her “10 Most Interesting People” show. That’s never going to happen and I’m okay with that.
  • I will never sing on stage. This was another daydream, usually involving some type of Christmas spectacular. I was always wearing a long red velvet dress while singing Mariah Carey’s version of “All I Want for Christmas is You.” That’s never going to happen and I’m okay with that.
  • I will never host Saturday Night Live. (Disappointing, but okay.)
  • I will never be a cover model. (Which is probably a good thing.)
  • I will never become a best-selling author. (This one still makes me sad, but I have to be okay with that.)
  • I will never host my own show on HGTV. (Although I’d totally rock it and it would be everyone’s new favorite show. Yeah, I’m not quite ready to give up on this one yet.)
  • I will never star on MTV’s show “The Real World.” I always thought I’d be the perfect candidate for the “good girl” roommate that is constantly shocked by all of the nutty shenanigans of her fellow roommates. MTV is never gonna call and I’m more than okay with that.
  • I will never win the coveted, quadruple E.G.O.T. (Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, and Tony) hence the reason why…
  • I will never walk a red carpet. The only red carpets I’ll ever be walking on will be the ones that lead to Mexican food restaurants and I’m okay with that because who doesn’t love Mexican food? Speaking of food…
  • I will never have a six-pack. I love food. I love food that is bad for you. I will struggle against that love my entire life. It’s not the greatest but it is what it is and I’m okay with that.
  • I will never be a fashion icon. I prefer a good pair of yoga pants over a sequined gown any day of the week and twice on Tuesday. My face/body/clothes will never grace the front page of the Image section of the LA Times. I will always be one of the fat armed women wearing a boring black dress in the background and guess what? I’m okay with that. Although I would like to do something about my arms.

I will never be famous or have some massive talent to display on stage. I will never have a reason to wear gorgeous couture gowns or have the body to fit into them. I will never look into a camera and scream, “Live from New York…” and students all over American won’t be standing in line to buy my next book. The fame game doesn’t need me as a participant. Because the truth is, it was never God’s will for me to be anything of those things and that is the reason why I’m okay with that.

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