Jealous?

Photo Courtesy

Remember those Scholastic book orders we got so excited about as kids in primary/elementary school?

Well, there was a time when I wanted to be famous so bad that I ordered a book entitled: "How to Be a Superstar," or something of that nature. I was probably in grade five or six. For some reason, I wanted fame so bad that I could taste it. It was obviously a phase - it isn't like I spent my whole childhood wishing I could be in the limelight. The phase only stuck for a year or two. And the weirdest part is that I've never really enjoyed the limelight. I don't know what I was thinking. Even now, at 25, I have to give a hour and a half long seminar for one of my grad courses and I'm dreading it like the plague.

Of course, if I were to be famous I would first choose to be a famous author - which, unless you're someone like J.K. Rowling still allows you that little bit of obscurity. If I had to choose second I would be a great musician, perhaps a rockstar. Because, well, who doesn't dream about being a rockstar?

Fame definitely has its benefits. And by benefits I mean Chanel. Dior. Valentino. Tiffany's. An awesome house with massive, beautiful gardens and a luxurious swimming pool.

But I really think it's a major trade-off. Celebrities give up a lot for that posh lifestyle. So much so, that I find it difficult to truly envy them.

Nor do I feel terribly bad for their plight, but I digress.

Imagine yourself as a celebrity who happens to be craving something from, oh say, McDonalds. A.) You can't eat it and risk going up an extra pound on the scale B.) You can't eat it because if the paparazzi catches you, headlines around the world the following day will claim that you are eating away your sorrow because your boyfriend cheated on you with your great-grandmother C.) You can't actually go to McDonalds because that will mean having to primp, preen, and pull together a picture-worthy outfit since it's a given that there will be people waiting to capture you at your worst, and D.) You can't go there because before you even make it to the lineup you'll have hordes of fans tackling you for an autograph.

Can you imagine? All you want is some McDonalds fries and you cannot freely make that decision. I suppose if you're really famous you could get a butler to go pick it up for you - but what if you just really wanted to go spend some quality time at Mickey D's, for one reason or another? You can't, sorry.

Jealous of celebrities? They should be jealous of us!

They lack a certain freedom that we get to enjoy every day.

Not to mention that if I ever heard that someone said something bad about me, it would consume me. I think a lot of people are like that. I would never be able to dismiss the tabloids as garbage, despite the fact that they actually are, for the most part, garbage. I would be continually hurt. I'm too sensitive to be famous.

I was thinking about all this after watching the VMAs the other night and seeing the celebs on Twitter tweet about the afterparty. I thought to myself, I wish I was invited to the awards and the afterparty! But then I quickly realized that I would probably be in the bathroom for three quarters of the night checking to see if I had anything in my teeth. Because one amiss piece of spinach in the teeth can ruin a celeb's career.

Perhaps, I am also too human to be famous. So maybe when a celeb has a bit of cellulite or looks terrible with no makeup, we should cut them a break. Maybe they're just being human, too.