Fabulous

I wrote this entry on my MySpace blog about a year or so ago. I saw it and thought I would post it here.

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I sat down today to write a blog about my shitty week, my fucked up family, and my subsequent successful play reading, but instead, I'm going to blog about something entirely different.

I saw the most fabulous (imagine me saying "FAAaaaaaabulous") woman on 5th Ave today. She was hailing a cab in front of Saks Fifth Avenue. She was tall and slender, not too skinny, with great (maybe fake) boobs and a tiny waist. She had perfectly straight and silky blonde hair down to the middle of her back. She was tan, but not tooo tan, and not orangey fake tan either. She was wearing big ignorant sunglasses (either Chanel or Dior - couldn't quite tell from a distance), a white A-line dress with a black belt, a small quilted black Chanel tote, and the Christian Louboutin Mary Janes that I've been saving my pretty pennies for. She hailed her cab with one long, toned arm complete with impeccably manicured nails. I mean, this bitch was PERFECT. Not a hair out of place. I stared at her for a good minute, which is something I never really do. I'm a people watcher, by nature, but I don't normally gawk at someone. She didn't see me, of course, as to someone like her I was completely unnoticeable. Women like that don't see girls like me. And that's okay. I felt like I'd seen a rare bird or something. Most wealthy NYC women are completely over the top or ridiculous with their expensive outfits. Not her. She just gave off pure elegance. Like Jackie O.

In this minute that I stared at this woman, I wondered what it would be like to be her. What would I do? Would I just shop all day and look fabulous hailing cabs? Would I wear a white bikini and travel to Ibiza? Would I sit outside at Pastis in my big sunglasses and drink a bellini? Would I be a curator at an art gallery and wear high waisted pencil skirts? Would I be successful at anything I tried to do?

I started being hard on myself. I started thinking that I should accessorize more. I probably don't do enough fun stuff with jewelry. And then I started thinking about trying to lose ten pounds again and maxing out my credit card. I started saying "I want to be fabulous like that! I want heads to turn when I walk down the street!"

And then it hit me. The reason this woman was so fabulous was not because she spent my annual salary on her outfit. It was because she woke up this morning and said "You wanna know what? I am motherfucking fabulous". She exuded confidence. And maybe she's not so fabulous. Maybe she's a raging bitch with an alcoholic husband or a cocaine problem. Maybe she's a prostitute or a mistress. But it doesn't matter. She woke up this morning and made a decision. That decision was that she is awesome, and ain't no one gonna tell her different.

I am one of the luckiest people in the world. I am. And I am a good writer, a good friend, and a good wife. There are a lot of good things about me even if I'm not perfect. Tomorrow morning, I'm gonna wake up, look in my mirror, and make that decision. The decision to be awesome. I'm gonna say "Kari, you are FAAAbulous". I'm gonna turn heads. I am, for once in my life, going to be as kind to myself as I am to others. It's time. Cause I can't be unkind to myself, not one more day. I deserve better than that. We all do. We all should be so lucky to have ourselves as a friend.