Karen Krizanovich: An American Bitch in London

Say, 'Thurrrrrsday'


The photo shoot for the serious men’s magazine is today and I am in shock that I went ahead and ate two portions of Christmas pudding at the Critics’ Circle lunch this noon. ‘I have to do a photo shoot today,’ I say to my mates way too loudly, ‘And I’m FAT!’

I am stuffing my face with salmon and green beans then ask for two portions – one of mince pie and one of pudding. (BTW, do not make the mince pie recipe that has real meat in it… it is not good. Did that a few years ago and I had to give it to the neighbours’ dogs: They buried it.) What can I say about my eating disorder? I get nervous, I eat! I sleep, I eat! I eat and eat!

Tomorrow is my face-and-ass-doctor visit but he cannot see me in time for today so… gasp… I shall have to go in front of the cameras without my ‘maintenance’. As Adam my lovely ‘tinter’ told me, you KNOW when the Botox has not worked. A friend of his called her Botox provider and said, ‘I look unhappy. It was three weeks since you gave me the shots and I still look unhappy. I can see that I look unhappy. And the trouble with that is that OTHER PEOPLE can see that I look unhappy. So I think it would be nice if you redid my shots.’

So the hair is done, cut and tinted, Jungle Fever’s new manicurist Daiva (pronounced DIE-VAH, like, well, muff diver, NO I meant scuba diver. Now I live in fear of cuticles just for a cheap laugh…) has turned my hooves into feet and hands and now I am contemplating a half an hour in the sauna before the car comes to take me to the studio.

Why is it that the best plans I make to look good for a shoot never work? I can get myself in shape to hunt a man (months of planning, starvation, religious gym workouts, etc.) but a shoot? I dunno. I am beginning to think that today may be a shopping day… PHOTO SHOPPING that is.

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