Why It Sucks to Be Blake Lively
She's famous and rich. She's married to Ryan Reynolds. She has an adorable daughter named James which - I hate to say - is quite cool. She's so absurdly beautiful it's stupid. Yawn, Blake Lively. Get a life that's interesting.
(My tongue is very much in my cheek.)
Blake is pregnant again which, if I'm being totally honest, initially elicited this response:
The more babies she has, the more her perfect Hollywood body will deteriorate and maybe look like mine, i.e. lumpy and weird. I said I was being honest; I didn't say I was proud of it.
How does my reality stack up next to Blake's? For example, yesterday as I was nursing Annie, my six year-old pointed at my exposed stomach and said, "What's that?"
"That's my belly button."
"No, THAT. That brown thing."
"My BELLY BUTTON."
"No, Mom, THAT..." I didn't hear anything else because I set myself on fire.
Can Blake Lively pull the skin on her stomach a solid three inches into the air? Does Blake Lively wear maternity pants at her kid's first birthday party? Can Blake Lively actually find her belly button? I want so much for her to be lumpy and weird with a brown excuse of a navel like me.
But then I realized something as I saw her most recent pregnancy photo from just this week.
Blake doesn't have the luxury to be like me. She lives in a town and works in an industry where she can't be lumpy. I mean, she could, but then she'd essentially lose her job. The way she looks now in this photo? If I look like that as my end game, I'm rejoicing. But Blake can't stop at three-months-pregnant Blake. She has to be bikini-wearing-with-no-visible-signs-of-motherhood Blake.
I used to say things like, "Well, she's got the advantage because she can afford a chef and a trainer and a nanny and look like a million bucks five minutes after giving birth!" And that's true. But oh my gosh, y'all, what a bummer.
Can you imagine having your job depend on the way you look to such a degree that you have to hire professionals to help you decide what to eat for lunch? I barely listen to my alarm in the morning; I don't know why I want some trainer hyped up on Red Bull and expectations yelling at me before the sun comes up. And all of this so I can have my flat stomach on a magazine.
I used to think the celebrity life was ideal because of all the help you can hire to look great. Now I see that it's a tough price to pay that you have to hire the help in the first place.
It's not Blake's fault that her beauty is Hollywood currency, and when I change my perspective a little, I'm glad for her that she has the support and resources to not go crazy under expectations she can't possibly meet on her own. But that's not a glamorous life.
So a word to you regular people and you regular moms with belly buttons you haven't seen in years: maybe it's time we stop lamenting our lack of a Get Your Body Back Squad and rejoice in the fact that we don't have to.