Superstar

Have you seen me on t.v.?

I'm famous.

About a month ago, the guy who did my kitchen called and asked if I'd be in a commercial for him. I didn't want to do it, but Layne reminded me that we ask our patients to give us testimonials all of the time. Reluctantly, I said yes.

These guys moved out all of my chairs and set up tons of lights and cameras. They stuffed a microphone up my shirt, posed me like a Barbie doll in front of my sink, then told me to "act natural."

I don't think you really want me to do that. "Natural" me is a total klutzy nerd.

I made some jokes about valium and beer and stuff-- then realized that I everything I said was being taped.

Man, I'm a brain surgeon.

At least my kitchen was clean.

I kind of forgot about it until Sunday when I was conducting Relief Society. I told all of the sisters that whoever went to the General Relief Society session at the Stake Center was invited to my house for my fantastic hot fudge sundaes after. That's when someone from the back piped up, "Is it a housewarming party for your new kitchen? We saw you on t.v.!"

Great. Conducting makes me nervous already, so bringing up that little fact really made me forget what I was doing.

Valium and beer anyone?

So today, I'm folding clothes, watching the 5:00 news, when Emalee pops up, "Hey, Mom! You're on t.v.!" (Apparently I forgot to tell my kids what I'd done.) The funniest part was that I think that I've seen that commercial before and just not noticed myself. I've developed the strange (but useful) talent of tuning out whatever is on the tube.

Even if it is myself, I guess.

When it comes down to it, I'm really ignorable. You've probably seen me too and just not paid attention.

I'm fairly certain that the camera really does add 10 pounds. Or 20. So, if you do happen to notice my 3.4 seconds of fame, try to take off a few pounds.

And don't mention to me that you saw it.

I'd like to pretend it never happened.