Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Living Oprah's Best Life

Dear Oprah,

Last week, while visiting my best friend in the hospital over the course of a few days, I familiarized myself with your magazine. You really have come a long way and I want to applaud you for all of your achievements. I remember watching your talk show as a kid and I remember how "On Fire For Oprah" my mom would get after a particularly inspiring episode- it was just like how fired up she'd be after a really, really good AA meeting. She'd sometimes parade around for days preaching the word of AA- and Oprah- to whoever would stop long enough to listen to her. You really made an impact.

Now you see, Oprah, the reason I am taking the time to even write this, is that I have a small bone to pick. Your whole "Live Your Best Life" motto is pretty great, but makes people like me feel a tad bit bitter. How do you live your best life if you're not a gazillionaire and can't afford daily massages, personal chefs, drivers, maids, and the countless other luxuries that you benefit from? And what if, despite your greatest of all efforts, living your "Best Life" only means that your life just sucks a wee bit less than it did before you spent the $4.50 at the Memorial Hospital gift shop to buy "O" Magazine while visiting your sick friend?

I mean, think about it Oprah. You really are selling the whole "money can buy happiness" thing, and I think I'm finally getting it. Shit, I'd be STOKED to have a tenth of what you've got. I'd be happy if I had a nanny so I didn't have to drive my kids' asses all over town before and after driving my own ass to a job where 75% of the people I am supposed to be helping end up pissing me off every day. I'd be happy if someone else prepared all of my meals, cleaned my house and went to Trader Joe's for me so I didn't have to stand in line with bitchy housewives quietly judging my cart full of cheap wine and frozen veggie corn dogs. I'd be thrilled to have someone to force me out of bed and into the gym, yoga class, track, etc every morning, followed by a massage and a refreshing Acai Berry smoothie. I'd love to have someone wax me, do my fucked up, white girl afro and apply my make-up so it makes me look 10 years younger. And contrary to my bitter, smart-ass, poor, single mom tone, nothing would make me happier than to give deserving people millions of dollars for doing good work in the world. Vacations to 5 star resorts would also make me very, very, very happy.

The problem is, Oprah, you're rich and I am broke. You see, Living My Best Life means that I try do little things like not judging myself for eating salame when I'm drunk. I spend money I don't have on therapy so I can talk about how to try and Live My Best Life. I let myself upgrade to 4 movies at a time on Netflix. And I talk my kids into taking the garbage out a couple of times a week so I can have 3 more free minutes of time to think of ways to get rich so I can buy happiness, too. So far, my options are winning the lottery, marrying a prince, robbing a bank or returing one of those emails I got regarding an estate I have inherited from someone in Saudi Arabia.

Someday, Oprah, My Best Life will be Oprah-worthy and you may have me on your show, handing over a check for a gazillion dollars. I, like you, will inspire viewers and readers of "O" Magazine with tales of "How She Did It: Rags to Riches in Our Backyard." and I'll make you proud. I'll do all of those things that are supposed to make me happy and they'll finally work! It will be a miracle and I will skip through fields of flowers in white capris, Living My best Life... once and for all!


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