Like if somehow you’re not in a perpetual state of satisfaction and bliss you’re a loser?
And is there anything worse than being a loser?
(Well, maybe being Charlie Sheen would be worse. Although he thinks he’s happy which is irritating.)
I get Allure magazine and Anne Hathaway is on the cover this month and the title next to her ridiculously beautiful face is “Anne Hathaway: Transforms Everything — Her Hair, Her Body, Her Life.”
Why did Anne Hathaway have to do that?
Was there something wrong with her before she transformed everything? Was she simply too boring and dated and old news if she didn’t transform everything?
I mean if Anne fucking Hathaway has to transform everything where does that leave me?
Then there was O Magazine’s coverage of 52-year old Dr. Toni Bark.
A vegan, Dandelion pod make-up wearing zealot who has a repurposed silk trapeze mounted on her bedroom ceiling from whence she undulates like a spry Elden Nymph and must spend every waking hour keeping her homeopathic remedies ground to a fine silt while prowling farmer’s markets to harvest the latest okra, blueberry, pamponese qualamites to rejuvenate her scrapulapula.
I just wanted to smack her with an organic loofa.
I want to be happier than the Bark lady while I drive my kids through McDonald’s for McFlurries.
How dare she seem happier than me that ferrety wackadoodle. I’m the happiest. I’M THE HAPPIEST!
But really I’m not. I’m competitive about happiness and I’m sure it bleeds onto these pages.
So, if you ever read a post where I seem a little smugly happy just know — I’m as worried, tense, frustrated, annoyed and neurotic as you are.
If you are. Which you’d better be, or at least lie to me and say you are.
I think Happiness is a long con perpetrated by the ad industry.
I’m done with happy. I’m going to replace Happy with: Purposeful, with a side of Gratitude. For today. Until I see someone who seems to have it all figured out and I bludgeon them with fennel seeds.
I’d love to hear what you’d replace Happy with… xo S