With the help of none of you, I haven’t become an Internet sensation, which leaves me feeling very upset and unfulfilled. So, I’m branching out and I have decided to become a reality TV star! It seems so easy. Below, I have outlined my future reality TV guide to stardom.
1. Find an older contractor guy and have him put a blood diamond on it
One of the most hindering experiences growing up was not having the financial backing to support my need for expensive denim, SUVs, and bedazzled cross necklaces. You have no clue how embarrassing it was to eat at chain restaurants and wear, what I always called a dying breed, GAP clothes…in public. I deserve more. I’ll seek out a rich, older man to nickname something childish like “Big Daddy Poppy Bear” and use his money to get me on my feet and put a ridiculously large roof over my head.
Once we extravagantly marry, he won’t appear much in my reality TV show. He has a job and for some reason doesn’t enjoy taking trips to Cabo San Lucas with my fat friends and myself.
2. Makeover montage
I know that I’m currently a diamond in the rough, and my aspirations of who I need to become for reality TV celebrity-hood far succeed my current appearance. I don’t need an audience to critique these points. Regrettably, I have a mirror. But that’s nothing a chemical peel, severe body modifications, and 90-day juice fast can’t fix. Now, don’t get yourself worked up by the extremity of my transformation. I’m a celebrity, I don’t have body issues; I create them.
Who doesn’t love the episodes of America’s Next Top Model where seemingly beautiful girls undergo a complete makeover to fit their new high fashion, unattainable for the majority, image. If I don’t look more beautiful than everyone else, what kind of message will I send to young girls that are watching me on TV? Would if they think their B cups are sexy? And the bump on their nose only repairable by contouring make up? And the extra weight they’re carrying around considered natural? Would if people actually believed this malarkey? I will not stand for such aesthetic anarchy. With my abs in check, my blond hair color, and my rhinestone thong exceeding past my terry cloth, flare lounge pants, I’m ready for filming.
3. Change my mental state
In order to become a successful reality TV star, I need to eliminate existing morals and ethics to become a product of our flamboyant materialist society. Just kidding! Who even talks like that? So serious! I used to think childlike behavior such as jealousy, competition, vengeance, aggression, and confrontation in adults was unbecoming and detrimental. I can’t think like that any longer. See you later, social decency and responsibility. I have b-tches to hate on. I have drinks to throw in order to prove my point. I have fits of rage to demonstrate in public settings. I have marriages to devastate. One of my body modifications has to be hard skin.
I have to engage my creative side in transitioning into my new mind state. How do I stick out amongst the reality TV star crowd? Verbal fights? Boring. Physical fights? Duh. Sex tape? Doesn’t pack the punch anymore. Tax fraud? Well, that was my accountant’s fault. Espionage? Meh, then I’d have to be aware of governmental affairs. Gross. People in khakis and flats. Not for me.
4. Find a group of girlfriends and turn them into frenemies
Women can either be your best friends or your worst enemies. In my celebrity world, their roles exist simultaneously. One day, women are my best shopping and cocktail buddies, and the next they’re flakes that skip out on my catered dinner party. My show will largely be focused on interactions with women, what women say about me behind my back, and how women look at my husband when I’m not around. Plus, I heard those stingy b-tches buy last season’s Louboutins at Century One. Tacky.
5. Go to lunch but learn not to eat
From time to time, my producers will stage a fight at a new, hip restaurant where I’ll face my frenemy about the thing that she knows she did but just won’t admit to it. When I arrive for my confrontational lunch in five-inch heels and a fedora, the food will be waiting for me, but I’ll never eat it. I prefer a liquid lunch. I’ll be sure to drink two appletinis and throw the third on the girl that can’t “keep it real with me.”
6. Develop an unaddressed drinking, prescription pill, or both, problem
I have to walk the fine line of creating speculation but not presenting my full-blown addiction in the first season of my show (this comes later). In the meantime, I’ll use the excuse “I was drunk” or “I have a bad back” when being confronted by my frenemy regarding the statement I made about her to my other frenemy who wasn’t supposed to tell her anything. Oh, and I’ll have to learn to conquer the impossible: drink white wine with ice. It’s necessary to avoid stained teeth and warm liquids that may make me gain weight.
7. Turn my confirmed drinking problem into a new show
Well, some time will pass after my first reality TV show will be canceled after two episodes. Big deal, I stabbed someone. So, I’ll move onto the next vehicle that celebrates my rock bottom: Celebrity Rehab. Hey, if I can get my body back in shape and raise awareness about whippet addiction then I’m happy. Or at least I think I’m happy? I haven’t popped an oxy since four minutes ago. My hands are too sweaty to type, and I have a nose bleed.
8. Make my come back by getting remarried to a younger man
So, it turns out that my rehab counselor will be a real cutie. Once I get off the pills and have feeling back in my vagina, he and I will unite. The Oxygen Channel will find my infidelity and messy divorce financially beneficial for them and will tell me that if I get pregnant they’ll give me another show. I’ll think about it, as I’ve never been severely fat before.
9. Become pregnant and receive another show
Well, the unthinkable will happen. I’ll poke some holes in our condoms and organically get pregnant, and we’ll keep it. My younger, distant husband, three nannies, our future boarding school, and myself will feel truly blessed. My next show will be about the struggles of my weight gain, my husband’s inability to have sex with someone with stretch marks, oh, and a baby.
10. Use my post baby weight as a way to get on a dancing show
Being fat will be disgusting and I’ll need a way to shimmy back into my Herve Ledger bandage dresses. I’ll find the training hours very difficult to manage considering my postpartum depression will limit my ability to see any kind of light. I will, however, manage to tone my upper body by shaking that baby that never seems to keep quiet.
11. Pull a Beyoncé.
I’ll sing, dance and become an awful actress in critically scrutinized movie. My hit song “Reality TV Star” will become a favorite among drag queens and will be available for free on iTunes. By now, I will have excelled from the four dance lessons I received from my gay Latin dance instructor from Dancing with the Stars, and I’ll be ready to star in my own 2 1/2 Minute Pole Dancing fitness video. From there, I’ll make my cameo on a B-list Sci-Fi original movie where I get eaten by a robotic anaconda in the first five minutes. I’ll then wait to audition for Snakes on a Plane 11 starring a Baldwin brother.
12. Become a commentator on VH1 “Best Of” Shows
One may think commentators on VH1 shows like Where Are They Now? are a bunch of no names, rap star ex wives, C-list comedians, and a Hulk Hogan child, but that’s where one is wrong. Here is a perfect avenue to voice my thoughts on Cindy Crawford’s cottage cheese cellulite legs on Worst Bikini Bodies Ever In History and still remain relevant. The more nonconstructive criticism, the more air time, which is perfect because I just got my blond roots touched up (which is more than most can say).
13. Die from Drug Overdose
Listen, I tried. My paperback memoir will be featured in the under $5 section at my local bookstore. It will sell upwards of three copies (my sisters and father will always have my back). What a better way to go out? If my personal inspirations Amy Winehouse, Whitney Houston, Brittany Murphy can pull if off, then so can I.
Some of you may fret over my inevitable fate, but don’t. I’m excited by my future life filled with limited, over-dramatized plot lines. Being on TV is so glamorous. Can you imagine all the young girls and closeted boys that I will inspire? I’m teaching them an appropriate model in which to live their life. They’ll be financially supported by their older, unattractive significant other, they’ll get to wear graphic tees, they’ll get to drink excessively with little to no consequence, they’ll have a dog that they can hold like a baby and “accidently” leave in a club, and more importantly, they’ll have a large demographic of people who will feel better about their lives after watching the typical reality TV star.
Don’t feel badly. I’m a role model, baby. And guess what, with all your support, more role models like me will keep popping up!