During my childhood, my grandmother in particular had me convinced that I would be famous. I remember being about Bria’s age and walking into Captain D’s with them one night. She introduced me to some guy eating alone. He said “I believe she’ll be the next Miss Kentucky!” Of course I beamed. My Gran’s response… “Just for a minute before she’s Miss America.” Good grief, talk about sitting the bar high. Needless to say, I wasn’t Miss Kentucky or Miss America or Miss universe. I was in fact devastated when I wasn’t chosen to be an extra in “In Country.” (A little Bruce Willis movie filmed in my home town. The book was better.) I guess that’s why I consider one of my biggest parenting failures the fact that I don’t always build up my children’s physical characteristics. I’ve learned in my old age that there is always someone prettier, someone smarter, someone who has just a bit more and that’s okay.
I digress… anyway I have a new claim to fame. My big old butt is famous. Seriously.
This was the image in Friday’s Honolulu Star Advertiser. I don’t know what I’m more upset about…
- The print of my dress.
- The way things seem to spread when you sit down.
- The fact that my hair apparently hasn’t been brushed in a month.
- Our favorite little dive that no one knew about is now in the paper as one of the best places to eat.
- Seriously… this is ridiculous… I can’t believe this is the picture.
Ray and I often hit a little joint close to our house for date night. It has the best pupus. (Small appetizer sized portions for you non locals.) I love the waitstaff. Although my favorite server did just run off to Colorado to be with her boyfriend. (Did I mention we’re regulars?) We noticed the reporter. We saw the camera. I thought she was zoomed in on the server. This is what I get for thinking… my rear spread on the Lifestyle portion of Friday’s paper. Ugh!
It’s off to bootcamp and to research whole foods recipes. This is not exactly what I dreamed of being famous for. If you want to read the article, you’ll find it here.