About five years, I became totally obsessed with the idea that I was accidentally morphing into a brunette version of Tori Spelling, and my friends hadn’t told me.
At the time, I was watching Tori and Dean: Home Sweet Hollywood. Don’t judge me. You watch trash, too.
I started noticing similarities. Tori and I had similar haircuts. Tori and I wore similar glasses. We both called our sons “Monkey Boys.” We both called our husbands “Babe.”
It was all too much. I started to believe I was a small fortune and bad boob job away from an E! True Hollywood Story. I sent emails to my friends DEMANDING to know why they hadn’t stopped me from turning into a vapid reality star.
My friends did what they always do: they said soothing things to make me stop freaking out. Then they called my husband and suggested someone up my medication.
Maybe it was the Tori scare. Maybe I’m just getting older, but I have matured my look a bit over the past few years. I felt like things were going alright.
Today I saw a photo of Massachusetts Senator Elizabeth Warren. I totally dig her. She’s my kind of gal.
As I was looking at her, I thought, “I’m wearing those glasses.” Then it occurred to me, “I have that same hair cut.” Um, she’s 63. I looked it up. I think I overshot my goal a bit.
I made an appointment with my hairdresser. Charlie found our eye insurance information so I can order new glasses. Cause seriously, there has got to be something between Tori and the Senator.