Because I am just that way

A few years ago I had a post Christmas gig at a swanky home not too far from where I live. I happen to dwell in a normal area but not too far from here the obscenely rich and famous come every December 23 and stay to party and be seen until just after New Year’s Day. So more than a few of us regular people end up shclepping ourselves to high paying gigs so that we can make a few bucks and then generate some petty gossip. My mission on that fateful day several years ago was to tidy up after a holiday blow out party for the likes of Kate Moss and other movers and shakers. As I was clearing champagne flutes and wondering why the hell these people couldn’t wash their own damn glasses, who should saunter into the kitchen but this person. Donned in her long underwear and wondering where the instant oatmeal was, I pointed her to the cabinet and then to the stove where she could boil her own water, she seemed like a fairly low key gal. Then her boyfriend breezed into the room, set down a mammoth pile of joints and proceeded to bellow into his cellphone to some sort of client until his girlfriend was ready to hit the slopes.
All in all it was a painless encounter, I didn’t have to fetch them anything or interact. But here’s the thing, the picture in that link? Totally not Photoshopped. I know because I saw her ass and thighs in that long underwear and sister had some serious flabbage going on. Not piles of flab but what was there was not at all tight. And it made me giggle. All that fame and hooplah and girl had wiggly jigglies. I told a friend about it and she couldn’t believe such a tiny little things could have stuff hanging, but it is so true.