SOBER IN THE CITY

Extreme Makeover: Sober edition

May 18th at 10:34PM by Sara [277 comments]

I couldn't remember the last time I actually took more than five minutes to get ready before leaving the house. And in case you didn't know, swishing around some mouthwash, tossing your hair up into a scrunchie and throwing on whatever pair of sweats that aren't balled up on your floor shouldn't take longer than that.

However, if you're going for a look that's less Mary-Kate and more like Reese, a sufficient amount of time must be devoted to the project. And for someone like me, who hadn't applied mascara in over a year, and preferred to cover her face with oversized sunglasses rather than pressed powder, this was a huge undertaking.

Alas, an hour after I'd begun, I emerged from my bathroom a changed girl—on the outside at least. My normally boringly brown tresses were now washed, blown straight and shining as they rested halfway down my back. My cheeks were rosy, my eyes were clear, and my lips were full and could only be described as "kissable."

And lastly, I had a teary moment as I decided to retire all my sweats and pajama pants, storing them in boxes and placing them high up in my closet. Instead, I pulled out my favorite pair of skinny jeans and a faded pink camisole top. After buttoning the last button on the pants, I spent about a half an hour looking at myself from every angle imaginable. In the end, I had to admit I actually looked pretty damn good.

At least the eight pounds I gained from all the chocolate I'd been inhaling the past month went to all the right places.

Satisfied with my extreme makeover, I picked up my cell and texted Tizzie.

From: Sara

Delivered: May 13, 6:15pm

I'm leaving now. I'll meet you at the coffee house on the corner in 10?

Without waiting for a response, I slipped my phone into my pocket and looked into the mirror one last time. I ran a hand through my hair, applied another layer of gloss and smacked my lips together. Satisfied with the transformation I'd managed to create, I walked out the front door, locking up behind me.

I walked as briskly as I could without making it obvious that I had somewhere to be. I was hoping to get to the coffee shop before Tizzie, that way I'd have a few minutes to myself in which to come up with a game plan. A game plan to get Mr. Hollywood to notice me.

And if after he noticed me, he decided right then and there that I was the only girl for him, begged me to accompany him to his next movie premiere, asked me to move in with him after a whirlwind courtship and then slipped a big, fat, oversized rock on my finger...well, that was just icing on the cake, right? But it wasn't like I'd really given it all that much thought or anything.

As soon as I'd stopped texting with Hunter, I'd immediately picked up the phone and called Tizzie. Tara had been a hundred percent right when we'd talked before—I was starting to feel like I was going to burst over not being able to spread my newfound knowledge that my fave celeb (Okay, one of my favorite celebs...really, how can a girl be expected to choose just one when there are guys out there like Ben, Brad, George and Adam) was also a big fan of Jose. Cuervo, not the hot pool boy.

So, I'd called Tizzie, mostly because I figured that talking to her about it wasn't as bad, since as an AA member, she could totally run into Mr. Hollywood at a meeting herself. Therefore, I wouldn't really be breaking his anonymity. Maybe the case wouldn't exactly hold up in court, but it seemed to put my mind at ease.