I can’t believe the Oscars are less than 127 hours away.
I was supposed to get myself into tip-top, red-carpet-ready shape. Not that I’m co-hosting with Franco and Hathaway or trying to fit into an egg. I’m not driving anywhere near Hollywood and Highland this weekend (can’t even if I was oddly inclined) or conferring on the worst dressed with Oprah on Monday morning. I’ll actually be popping corks and noshing on manchego-smothered nachos in front of my HDTV with non-famous friends in my living room. We’ll be wagering. However, I still did want to have an Oscar worthy body in time for Sunday. It’s my own annual milestone after resolving to look and feel better after the turn of the new year. Gives me a good eight weeks or so to focus on exercising and getting through all of the emotional and physical stages of white flour withdrawal. Let’s me not feel like headmistress of the school of flab as I watch Halle, Natalie and all the other goddesses of fit and fabulous walk the celebrated walk.
So, what’s the status on my scissor splits, quad extensions and mixed greens with quinoa? Let’s just say I ended up getting a steady job instead. Great for the wallet, bad for body movement. I know, Jillian Michaels, that’s a lame excuse. But I also have a kid and a husband and household duties and my blog (poor neglected child) and the day somehow disappears before I have a chance to bust into butt flanks. I do get to yoga once a week and have enough lack of ego to dance and jump jacks at the playground while my son plays after school. But an Oscar body that does not make.
Alas, until there’s a team of celebrity trainers spending every waking minute with me and a creative cook preparing me healthy and deliciously different low-carb meals three times (plus snacks) a day, I guess I’ll just have to settle for an Independent Spirit Awards body. Low-maintenance, but quirky and original.
Which can’t be that bad since you get to drink champagne in a tent by the beach with Javier Bardem.
© Jennifer Dowd