Whenever I lug things back and forth to the basement of my house, I pretend I'm a famous actress and the paparazzi is hiding in the bushes, ready to take snapshots of me in my not-so-glamorous form. I'm usually wearing something that can get dirty, and even if I'm wearing socks I slip on my sandals because it's easy to.
I know I look like a schlump carrying a big blue plastic container or my sleeping bag wearing socks and sandals and having my hair in disarray. My alter ego comes out--this is what movie stars really look like: no makeup, no fancy gown and glittery borrowed jewelry. They look like you and me. I always fight the urge to throw my hand in front of my face to ward off the flashing of the camera bulbs.
You've seen the photos in People and Us magazines. "Real stars buying coffee! Shopping at Walmart! Cleaning up dog poop! Schlepping stuff to the basement!" This is what life is really about, not just take after take of kissing Leonardo DiCaprio. Or Johnny Depp. Or that young strapping fellow from Desperate Housewives.
Don't get me wrong, fantasizing about the red carpet has its place too, but it's fun to imagine the ordinary life of people who don't have an ordinary life.
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