I am thankful I'm not famous.
Not just because I'm afraid I'll pull a Britney and climb into a limo with my thong fully exposed in front of a media blitz. I don't wear thongs, anyway. And not just because I don't want to be like Dolly Parton who has to put on full makeup, a wig, and dress to a T before she dares venture outside to pick her newpaper off the porch. Though it has occurred to me lately I may not want to flop around braless at the grocery store any more.
I'm a private person. Until the past few of months only my very closest friends knew I'd even written a book.
Sometimes this all gets to be a bit too much for me--people asking about my book, making comments about going on Oprah (ha-ha, this is SO getting old) and simply asking a thousand questions every time they see me. I know they mean well and I love them for it. They're interested! I'm happy they're interested. It's almost as exciting for them as it is for me. And it's MY fault anyway--I'm the one having a book signing, right, and of course made sure everyone knows about this.
Sometimes I wish I could get through one day without any of the above. I know I could never, ever tolerate being any kind of real celebrity.
Sometimes I miss the old me.