Movie Star by Jessica Simpson EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Author: Jessica Simpson
- Language: English
- Genre: Humor Essays
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 1 MB
- Price: Free
The giant black Motorola flip phone kept exploding in my purse,
making me jump each time it buzzed. Around me on the red carpet of
the 2001 MTV VMAs after-party, the female pop stars I most admired
in the industry radiated with glamour. And then there was me. Picture a black
off-the-shoulder cocktail dress with a giant, wide black belt and black booties
that cut off my legs. The outfit did not make the “I belong here” statement
that I thought it did. Jennifer Lopez, who was hosting the party, had changed
into a bubblegum-pink crop top and skirt only she could pull off.
She was so
kind, stopping to take a picture with me—which Ja Rule photobombed with
his Burberry bucket hat. I looked like I was about to reach into my giant belt
to pull out a humongous autograph book and offer them a selection of
Sharpies. All around us, women seemed to have followed a directive from
their stylists to rip up their clothes and wrap the scraps of fabric back around
their bodies again, topping it all with a closetful of accessories—chokers and
handcuffs weighed down these beautiful women in jeans cut to their hoohaa
bone.
Wur-wurrr.
Wur-wurrr.
My purse. I was dodging calls from two boybanders, one from
*NSYNC, the other from the Backstreet Boys. Earlier, at the hotel, I had
separate calls going with them at the same time on my Motorola and on the
room phone. I kept switching between the calls, putting each on hold when
talk became too serious about when we were actually going to meet up. I was
good on the phone and could talk the talk, but in person, I knew my shyness
meant I wouldn’t even be able to look them in the eye.
The Backstreet Boy might be at the party, he’d said. I figured I could
avoid him. When I was a teenager, I’d stood in the front row of one of his
concerts. During a song, he poured a bottle of water all over himself, gyrating
his body as he looked at me the whole time. I’d asked him if he remembered
that, and he laughed. It was probably one of his moves.
The other boybander told me he was living in his car by choice. I knew
enough about the industry to know that money in those boy bands was always
. . . iffy, but he seemed to double down on this conviction. “I’d be fine doing
it the rest of my life,” he said. “Just keep a few belongings.” He used that
word—“belongings”—and I pictured myself trying to cram all the stuff my
Cancer heart wouldn’t let go of into his car. That was not going to work.
“I’m just gonna put you on hold again,” I had said and hung up for
good.
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