Fan Girl (Part 1)

After years of meeting and interviewing celebrities, you’d think I’d be used to it by now. For the most part, yes, but occasionally, you meet a celebrity who still leaves you starstruck.

I’ve already mentioned how I was literally lost for words just being in the same room as Meryl Streep, and it took everything I had to keep myself from screaming with Jake Gyllenhaal right in front of me…

Sometimes it’s the unexpected stars who leave you feeling giddy. I was so excited to be interviewing Elmo (yes, the puppet), that I forgot to hit “record” on my tape recorder. And while standing on the red carpet at the Australian MTV Video Music Awards a few years ago, it was Nick Giannopoulos who left me awestruck, even though Russell Crowe was standing just a few feet away. (My friend, Sylvia and I have this long-running Wog Boy joke, so to see Nick right in front of me, in all his glory, was like witnessing the second coming.)


Although I’ve clearly been left starstruck many, many times, there are four incidents that really stand out, and because of my tendency to go on and on… and on, I’ve decided to share them with you in four blog posts over the coming days (lucky you!)… So, without further adieu, may I present to you the ramblings of a starstruck crazy lady…


Ewan McGregor

Ewan McGregor is one of my top 10 celebrity boyfriends. Heck, Ewan McGregor is in my top two! I can actually pinpoint the exact moment I fell in love with him while watching Moulin Rouge!. I’m pretty special like that.

This was it. This was the moment...
This was it. This was the moment…

When I met Ewan, I was a 20-year-old uni student. During a particularly boring lecture, I came across a competition in a magazine I had subtly tucked into my notebook: to walk the red carpet with Ewan McGregor at the Sydney premiere of his film, Down With Love. I decided to enter, and while hoping for the best, expected nothing.

A few weeks later, I received a life-changing phone call saying I’d won. All my dreams were going to come true! I was going to marry Ewan McGregor! We’d live in a fancy castle in Scotland! Okay, maybe not, but I did get to stay in a fancy hotel in the city with my mum, where a professional makeup artist came and did our makeup, before a limo picked us up and dropped us off on the red carpet.

Let me tell you, there’s nothing more nerve-wracking than walking down a red carpet with all the bright lights and everyone looking at you… After pulling up to hundreds of screaming fans (not mine – I’m assuming they thought/were hoping it was Ewan in the car), we stepped out to a disappointed cry of, “Ohhhh,” while people murmured, “Who is she?” The answer? No one. Absolutely no one. It was mortifying.

After the film, we were shuttled across to the after-party at the Sydney Opera House, which had been given a ’60s vibe to tie in with the movie.

Ewan in Down With Love – LOOK AT HIM!!
Ewan in Down With Love – LOOK AT HIM!!

Earlier in the evening, we’d discovered Mum knew one of the security guards from work, and as we gracefully gorged on hors d’oeuvres, he came over to ask if we wanted to meet Ewan. Um, HELL YES! While Mum politely declined – “I don’t want to disturb him…” – I was already gone!!

As I snaked my way through the crowd towards the VIP area, I saw a hand extend towards me through the throng of people. I took it, assuming it belonged to the security guard, who was leading the way. After being gently pulled into the VIP area, I came face-to-face with one Ewan McGregor – the hand belonged to him. I was holding Ewan McGregor’s hand! “Look, everyone! I’m Cinderella!” Okay, I didn’t say it, but I was thinking it…

My mouth dropped open and stayed that way, until my mum – who eventually came and joined us – told me in no uncertain terms, “For God’s sake, close your mouth. You look like a goldfish!” Yes, Ewan heard every word. (Cheers, Mum.)

A few things about Ewan McGregor – he’s super smart, charming and charismatic, and that Scottish accent…. Ohhh. When he talks to you, he leans in really close, making you wish you’d never eaten the hors d’oeuvres with all the onions. He also has really blue eyes. I found myself getting lost in those eyes.


After talking to him for what could have been an eternity (I’m not sure – I may have lost consciousness at some stage), Mum said, “Well, we’ll let you go…” Go where, Mum?! He’s not going anywhere! He’s in the VIP area and they’ve put a rope around him so he can’t escape! I was in it for the long haul.

We took photos with him (my photo is still framed and up on my wall) and then he gave us each a kiss goodbye. As his beard brushed against my cheek, I noticed how soft it was. Does he use unicorn conditioner?! I’ll never know. He smelt like a heavenly combination of aftershave and cigarettes. And I don’t even like smoking.


As we made our way out of the party, I saw Ewan glancing in our direction and gave him a little half-smile. It was a moment.

I later told Mum that it had been the happiest night of my whole life. “Not even my wedding day or the birth of my children will compare to this!” I told her, matter-of-factly. Apologies to my future husband and children, but I stand by this.


Maybe Baby

I’m at a stage in my life where around half of all my friends now have babies. It was nice knowing you all (I’m not even kidding – you’ll never see them again). Meanwhile, whenever anyone asks me if I have kids, my natural instinct is to scrunch up my face and say, “Me? God, no!” Needless to say, I’m not there yet…

Don’t get me wrong – babies are great. I don’t even have kids and I’m guilty of posting the occasional baby photo on Instagram! But do you know what else is great? Sleeping, going out until late, owning clothes that aren’t covered in snot and vomit, and never having to wipe anyone else’s ass.


My friend, Lea used to call me everyday during my drive into work for a chat. Since she had her second baby in July, I’ve probably only heard from her maybe three times (although she did point out that I hadn’t called her either – noted). Is she still alive? Nobody knows. She could be trapped under a pile of dirty diapers for all I know.

At their worst, it’s easy to think of kids as tiny terrorists who have hijacked your life. When I hear a baby crying relentlessly, or see a toddler throwing an epic tantrum, I think, “Quick! Grab a crucifix!” I once witnessed a frazzled mother on a plane nervously downing tiny bottles of alcohol while her toddler ran riot and threw tantrums. That kid is literally the reason mummy drinks.


All of my friends who have kids seem mostly happy with their life choices, but occasionally I do catch a flicker of desperation in their exhausted and somewhat defeated eyes. One friend told me she’s forever constipated because she has to plan her toilet breaks around her three young kids! It’s like my friend, Dee told me: “Once you have kids, your life is NEVER the same.” (Emphasis on the “never”.)


I used to think I wanted to have twins, but after seeing my friends have babies, I’m not entirely sure I even want one. If I did have multiples, I’d probably just pick off the ones I like the least and give them up for adoption.

I’m not saying I’ll never have kids, it’s just that right now they’re not high on my list of priorities (sorry, Mum). To be honest, I’m a bit blasé about the whole thing, which probably isn’t ideal when you’re officially in your thirties. But I figure there’s only so much you can control in life. If I do have kids, great, if not, oh well. I think it’s entirely possible to have a happy and fulfilling life without ever reproducing, and according to a recent study, so does the 20 percent of Australian adults who will never have kids.


Which brings me to my next point – there seems to be a stigma attached to people who choose not to have kids. Having kids is great and all, but I don’t think it’s the most selfless thing a person can do. Mother Teresa never had kids – would you call her selfish? Some people just don’t have kids – whether it’s by choice (shocking, I know) or because they sadly can’t – it’s as simple as that. They shouldn’t be shamed for it. Everyone is on their own journey.

My friend, Trisha refuses to even hold a baby. And the first time my friend, Marta held a baby, she rocked him like a newborn. He was two. After handing him back, she immediately washed her hands. Do I judge them? No. Okay, maybe a little bit (I kid).

What is this??
What is this??

Maybe we should focus more on the people who do have kids and neglect them. Working in Redfern – one of the closest things Sydney has to a “’hood” – I can’t even begin to tell you how often I seen parents pushing prams with a cigarette in one hand and a can of beer in the other, while their kids (who should be in school) trail behind them.

Right before Lea found herself trapped under an avalanche of diapers, I remember a conversation I had with her. “Don’t you want to get married and have babies?” she pleadingly asked me, before immediately proceeding to tell me about how she was running on no sleep and had had to give her constipated two-year-old daughter a suppository. Please, tell me more… Yeah, no, Lea. I think I’m fine for now.


Growing Up Greek

While I consider myself Australian, I have Greek heritage. Surprise! If you’ve never been to Greece, it’s a beautiful country steeped in history and tradition, and as far as the people go, you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone more passionate and fiery. Greeks know how to have a good time!

The motherland.
The motherland.

But if there’s one thing Greeks really excel in, it’s guilt and melodrama. If these traits were Olympic sports, they’d undoubtedly win every medal. Before Greeks do practically anything, they will always ask one very important question: “What will other people think??”

Waving the flag for guilt and melodrama.
Waving the flag for guilt and melodrama.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m incredibly proud of my Greek heritage (after all, without the Greeks, there would be no souvlaki), but it’s no walk in the park. You practically have to be fluent in three languages – English, Greek and guilt. Luckily, I speak all three, so here are some common phrases you will hear when you’re growing up Greek versus what they actually mean – two completely different things…

“Aren’t you embarrassed?”

Translation: “You’re embarrassing me! Also, what will people think?”

Back in the old country.
Back in the old country.

“Are you wearing a singlet?”

Translation: “I know it’s 41ºC, but colds lead to pneumonia. Pneumonia leads to death. Therefore, you will get sick and die.”

“I’m going to die soon.”

Translation: “You’ve given me nothing to live for.”

Before Baby did it, my grandmother carried a watermelon through the streets of Greece.
Before Baby did it, my grandmother carried a watermelon through the streets of Greece.

“When I was a little girl, we couldn’t afford shoes. I had to warm my feet in cow shit!”

Translation: “I suffered so you could have a better life, you ungrateful, entitled brat! Also, I’m Jesus.”

“Never let anyone pour you a drink. They will spike it and rape you.”

Translation: “Trust no one. NO. ONE.”

You're ruin-ing my life! (Get it?)
You’re ruin-ing my life! (Get it?)

“Leave him alone!”

Translation: “He’s a man. That means he’s entitled to do whatever he wants. It’s his birthright as a man. Now get back in the kitchen!”

“Have you found a husband yet?”

Translation: “What’s wrong with you?! I’d like to see at least one great-grandchild before I die! Also, Toula’s granddaughter has five kids! Have I not been praying hard enough??”

Papou, just chilling amongst some ruins back in the day...
Papou, just chilling amongst some ruins back in the day…

“Eat! Why won’t you eat?” (Quickly followed by, “Do you want a banana?”)

Translation: “When you reject my food, you reject my love.”

“How’s work?”

Translation: “Have you quit to become a doctor/lawyer yet?”

Swimming in Santorini.
Swimming in Santorini.

“Why don’t you go to church?”

Translation: “I want to show you off like a show pony to all of my friends. Also, there’s a nice Greek boy I want you to meet… He’s a doctor.”

“Go help wash up!”

Translation: “No one will want to marry you if you can’t keep a house. What will people think?”

The struggle is real.
The struggle is real.

“Oh. You’re wearing that [hat/ripped jeans/white jeans/pants to church]?”

Translation: “I would NEVER wear that! You’re going to bring shame on this family. Why can’t you just be normal? Also, what will people think??”

Yes, I am wearing a hat. That's very perceptive of you.
Yes, I am wearing a hat. That’s very perceptive of you.

“Fine. Do whatever you want…”

Translation: “It’s not fine. Not at all. And if you proceed to do whatever you want, there will be hell to pay. I guarantee it.”

“Oh. So you decided to call/visit…”

Translation: This is a trap! Hours of relentless guilt will follow. Abort! Abort!

So, there you go. Basically, if you’re Greek, you’re f***ed. Good luck!

This face should come with a warning.
This face should come with a warning.

Getting Old

Most days, I feel like I’m 15, but this year, the universe seems determined to kick my ass and prove me wrong.

My first indication that I might be getting on came when I went to a One Direction concert with my sister, Patrice, in February. After dealing with a snarky security guard who asked, “What? Do youse really like them?” (stay in school, kids), a quick look around proved I was indeed the oldest person there (without kids). After seriously considering slipping a child $20 to pretend she was my daughter, I decided the cheaper and more dignified thing to do would be to keep my sunglasses on until well after it went dark.

With Patrice, ready to rock out at One Direction.
With Patrice, ready to rock out at One Direction.

Then came a phone call from my 25-year-old cousin, Dimi, in Melbourne. Ahead of her July visit to Sydney, Dimi told me she’d contacted my 19-year-old cousin, Peta, to find out “where all the cool kids go”. Um, WHAT?! “I’m cool!” I told her. Cue the hysterical laughter. “I AM!!” I insisted, before rattling off a list of hipster bars… “Message me the details,” she told me sceptically.

I know a cool bar when I see one, okay? Like this one...
I know a cool bar when I see one, okay? Like THIS…

But the cherry on top of a clearly out-of-date pie came this past weekend, when I flew up to Brisbane for my cousin, Nicola’s hens night. I realised I was getting old when I spent the same amount of time yanking out random grey hairs as I did applying my makeup, while vowing I’d go to the hairdresser to get my hair coloured more often. By the time I’d showered, straightened my hair, removed said grey hairs, applied my makeup and gotten dressed, I was ready for a nap.

Full of optimism at the beginning of the night with Patrice and our cousin, Louisa.
Full of optimism at the beginning of the night with Patrice and our cousin, Louisa.

But I forced myself to press on, and by 9pm, I was more than ready to head back to the hotel room to watch whatever God-awful movie they play on a Saturday night. Instead, I settled for nodding in agreement when my aunt, Ellen told me, “All of these people out clubbing should be at home with their families!” I hear you. Solidarity, sister.

This looks like a party to me!
This looks like a party to me!

As we ourselves then proceeded to enter a nightclub, I tried not to be offended when the bouncer gave me a knowing nod and let me in without even asking for my ID. Um, WHAT?! In December, I got asked for ID in a liquor store, and was asked again in a bar in LA in January – how did I manage to age so much in just a few short months?! Oh, God – what’s happening?! Hmm, maybe I didn’t get all the greys…

**Not my ID.
**Not my ID.

Once inside the club, I got a second wind and really turned it up on the dance floor with my cousin, Louisa (yes, I have a lot of cousins – I’m Greek). I figured that as long as I kept moving, I wouldn’t fall asleep.

This is literally how I dance...
This is literally how I dance now…

By 12.30am, I was definitely done, and headed back to the hotel with Patrice.

At the end of the night, semi-passed out on Nicola's shoulder. Or it may have been 7pm. I don't remember.
At the end of the night, semi-passed out on Nicola’s shoulder. Or it may have been 7pm. I don’t remember.

Too exhausted to change into my pyjamas, I sat down on the couch for a rest and was then horrified to discover I couldn’t get back up. “My back!” I cried, as I struggled to lift my aching body off the couch. After hobbling around the hotel room for a few minutes, trying to ease the pain in my lower back, I eventually managed to crawl into bed.

Just leave me here!
Just leave me here!

The next day, I had not one, but TWO naps, and I was still exhausted. If I’m being honest, I feel like I’m still recovering, almost a week later… Even Louisa was complaining about her “whole body aching”. If a 24-year-old is struggling, what hope do I have at 32?!

These days, a big night for me is being able to get to the end of a movie without falling asleep – and that doesn’t happen often, I can assure you. Just ask the friends whose couches I have passed out on. Being an adult pretty much means you feel exhausted ALL THE DAMN TIME.

I’ve never been a big party girl, but I really wish I’d gone out more when I was younger and made the most of my now fading youth. I used to be so serious! Now it’s too late, and all I want to do is eat chocolate while huddled under a blanket on the couch, watching Hugh Grant movies. Well, at least watching the start of a Hugh Grant movie before inevitably drifting off to sleep.


Ross Rocks

I’m just going to put it out there – I am a huge Ross Geller fan. Always have been, always will be. There was the time when I was 15 and my friend Cathie (another Ross fan) and I shamelessly followed a guy around a resort in the Blue Mountains just because he bore a vague resemblance to Ross.

In my opinion, Ross was the best character on Friends. It’s proven to be an unpopular opinion, and I’ve spent a lot of time over the years defending my love for Ross to certain friends, who may prefer Joey for example (I’m looking at you, Greg).

This week, everyone was outraged when it was revealed Matthew Perry and Matt LeBlanc didn’t receive an invite to Jennifer Aniston’s recent wedding. Both Courteney Cox and Lisa Kudrow attended, but what about David Schwimmer?! Did anyone think about him?! Does anyone even care?! We’re talking about Ross – as in one half of Ross and Rachel – if anyone deserved an invite, surely it was him…




Well, I’m not going to take it anymore! I’m going to shut this argument down once and for all! Without further ado, I’d like to present the top 12 moments (and it was HARD to narrow them down) of Dr Ross Geller…


1. The one with Ross’ tan…

Long story short: Ross goes to a tanning booth and keeps forgetting to turn around, leaving himself looking like half of Tan Mom.


“One Mississippi, two Mississippi… SON OF A BITCH!!!”


2. The one with Ross’ teeth…

Long story short: Ross bleaches his teeth to the point where they’re blinding. No, really. They glow in the dark.


3. The one with Ross’ sandwich…

Long story short: Ross’ boss eats his sandwich and he loses his shit. Even the pigeons get scared. “You-you-you-you threw my sandwich away!”




4. The one where Ross and Monica whip out The Routine…

Long story short: In an effort to get on TV, Ross and Monica perform The Routine – a dance they made up in high school. Hey, it won them honourable mention in the brother/sister dance category!! How can you go wrong?!



5. The one with Ross’ pants…

Long story short: Ross buys a pair of leather pants and overheats in them while on a date. He then goes into the bathroom to take off said pants and can’t get them back on. If Lenny Kravitz’ recent mishap didn’t convince you that grown men shouldn’t own leather pants, maybe this will…


6. The one where Ross impersonates a dinosaur…

Long story short: Ross was trying to teach his class about dinosaurs through demonstration. (It’s funnier with sound, but you get the idea.)


7. The one where Ross uses the power of “unagi”…

Long story short: I’ve since discovered this is a type of sushi, but Ross thinks it makes him a zen master. Who am I to question him?


8. The one where Ross schools Rachel in grammar…

Long story short: “Y-o-u-r means your.” As in get YOUR shit together, people! It’s not rocket science.


9. The one with Ross’ couch…

Long story short: Too cheap to pay the delivery fee, Ross recruits Chandler and Rachel to help him move his couch. “Pivot! Pivot! Pivot!” “Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!” (Side note: I didn’t think it was possible, but the blooper reel is even funnier.)


10. The one when Ross and Rachel were on a break…

Long story short: Ross hooks up with another girl. Rachel thinks he cheated, Ross says they were on a break. It’s a grey area…



11. Ross’ ability to master any instrument…

ANY instrument… #Gifted



12. And finally, Ross’ inability to cope with things…

Ross deals with things the same way I deal with things – by just not dealing with them…





If all that hasn’t convinced you, well, you’re dead to me.



Just My Type

People often ask me, “Why are you still single?” That’s an excellent question. Clearly I’m a catch.

The truth is, most of the guys who hit on me tend to be pubescent, and I ain’t going to prison for nobody. You hear that, Justin Bieber? STOP CALLING ME.

He's relentless.
He’s relentless.

It doesn’t happen often, but just once, I would like the guy whistling at me in the street to not be wearing a school uniform. Seriously, where were all of these boys when I was in high school? Clearly they weren’t at Our Lady of Mercy College, and I think I know why – it was an all-girls school.

I know cougars are all the rage now, but it would be more like (young) mother and child. Unless you can remember the lyrics to “MMMBop”, keep walking, juvie.

Word for word...
Word for word…

Even as I write this, “Mrs Robinson” came on shuffle in my music library. Even my iPhone knows what’s up.

“Mrs Robinson, you’re trying to seduce me.” No, I’m not actually.

I’ll give you an example. A couple of weeks ago, I went to a bar with my friend, Gus. After striking up a conversation with the baby-faced bartender at the bar, he later came over to our table to talk to me when Gus momentarily walked away. No one else’s table – just mine. Even Gus marveled at how he looked about 12, before wondering aloud what the age of consent is… I was more curious about how a 12-year-old even managed to get a job at a bar.

I can only assume these kids pick up on my inherent immaturity. I am practically Jennifer Garner in Suddenly 30. We both work in magazines, and we are both 13-year-olds trapped in the bodies of 30-year-old grown ass women. While the other grown ups were all deep in conversation, I spent New Years Day embroiled in an epic water fight with my much younger cousins.

This was me on the weekend.
This was me on the weekend.

The only other guys I seem to attract are all gay. My friend, Gus who I just mentioned? Gay. If I had a ring for every time a gay guy told me he’d marry me if he were straight, I’d put all of those rings on eBay and make mama rich.

I’ve been told gay guys love me because I’m “so much fun”, but we all know it’s because I’m downright fabulous. If I’m within a 100-metre radius of a gay guy, I guarantee we will find each other and become instant BFFs. We’re like magnets.

It happens.
It happens.

My friend, Shannon (also gay) often jokes about how I’m destined to have three gay husbands. He’s probably right. I’m convinced I must’ve slid out of the womb on a rainbow with a fistful of glitter.


I have to take some responsibility though. I distinctly remember having a conversation with my friend, Sarah, in high school, where I told her, “I don’t care if I never get married. I just want a gay best friend I can go shopping with!” Look at me now, bitches! Living the dream.

My mum often asks me why I can’t find a straight guy. I don’t know, Mum – why is the sky blue? No one knows. I’m waiting for the day a gay 12-year-old approaches me… It will happen.

Don’t get me wrong – I have a lot of straight guy friends too. But they’re just that – friends. Over the years I’ve learned I am the girl guys are friends with – I’m not the girl guys want to date. And I’m not just saying that to feed you a sob story (#firstworldproblems)! My track record speaks for itself. I’m Joey Potter from Dawson’s Creek, Julia Roberts in My Best Friend’s Wedding, only with better hair (I kid)… I’m fine with this too, because while I have seen many of their relationships come and go, most of my friendships have withstood time. Except when they get married, then I’m in the shit.

I wonder what she puts in her hair...
I wonder what she puts in her hair…

Faking It

Today at work, while scrolling through Kylie Jenner’s Instagram account (it was actually for work – I don’t just troll 17-year-olds on Instagram), I was shocked and saddened by a lot of the comments on her photos. Stuff like, “She’s so beautiful. I’ll never be that beautiful,” and “Kylie Jenner is PERFECTION.” Woah, woah, woah… Firstly, let me just clarify something – money, makeup and a shitload of plastic surgery bought Kylie her looks! I can assure you, this is not a case of puberty done good.

How is this the same person?!
How is this the same person?!

Having worked in magazines for over 10 years now, I’m in the somewhat rare position where I get to see what goes on behind the scenes, and let me tell you, it takes a village, people! Despite what Beyonce tells you, she did not just wake up like this.

NO ONE wakes up like this.
NO ONE wakes up like this.

I remember when I first started working in this industry, our pre-press team (a group of Photoshop wizards) spent two hours straightening up Paris Hilton’s bung eye so it didn’t shoot out to the side. Aside from being shocked to discover Paris Hilton even had a lazy eye, I realised I never really thought about just how much work goes into making stars look like, well… stars.

Where is she looking?! No one knows.
Where is she looking?! No one knows.

Firstly, very few people are naturally that thin. It does not just come down to having a “fast metabolism”. Most celebrities spend hours everyday in the gym with their personal trainers and carefully monitor everything that goes into their mouth. (Truth be told, many of them probably suffer eating disorders, too.) Then there are the fashion stylists – professionals who make sure they look nothing less than polished. They have hairdressers who make sure they never have a bad hair day, and makeup artists to cover every blemish and enhance every feature. Oh, and don’t forget the plastic surgeons…

I’ve worked on quite a few photoshoots and as well as having all of these people, you also have a professional photographer, who knows all about good lighting and flattering poses. After the photo is taken, it is generally retouched by the photographer, before being retouched again by the art team, and then finally being retouched one last time by the pre-press team before the magazine FINALLY goes to print.

A LOT of work goes into getting a magazine out...
A LOT of work goes into getting a magazine out…

Having met quite a few celebrities, I can honestly say very few of them have blown me away with their good looks. Of course they’re attractive, but usually no more so than the average person. It usually just comes down to what we call “the tricks of the trade”. Even Zac Efron had a thick layer of foundation on his face when I interviewed him! And when I saw Cara Delevingne recently, I was surprised by how normal she is. Yes, she’s pretty, but ultimately, she’s just an incredibly photogenic young woman.

Cara Delevingne before and after makeup (and, let's face it, Photoshop).
Cara Delevingne before and after makeup (and, let’s face it, Photoshop).

In fact, if you look at most celebrities posing on the red carpet (or even in their selfies), you’ll probably notice that most of them have a go-to pose that works for them. It may be a hand on the hip, one leg in front of the other, the slight tilt of their head… Basically, they’ve mastered the art of looking good.

Jessica Biel clearly knows what her best ass-ets are.
Jessica Biel clearly knows what her best ass-ets are.

Take a look at celebrities when they’re first starting out, they usually look a little bit frumpy even, before a style team takes them under their wing and gives them what I call “The Hollywood Makeover”. I remember interviewing Lea Michele right when Glee first started back in 2009. She was like any girl you’d see on the street. Fast-forward six years and she’s a bonafide Hollywood diva!

Lea Michele before and after
Lea Michele before and after “The Hollywood Makeover”.

So, the next time you start feeling bad about yourself and comparing yourself to celebrities, just remember – not even they look like that! With the right team behind them, ANYONE could look the way they do.

Personally, I think you are all much more beautiful – both inside and out – than any celebrity I’ve ever met.