The first thing you should know about me is that I am not – nope, not in the slightest – someone you would call star struck. I am not a religious People Magazine, US Weekly or Star Magazine reader. I only know a handful of celebrity names and faces. And lastly, I am usually completely oblivious to the world around me. For example, several years ago I sat next to Tara Reid at a Mexican restaurant in Hollywood, and never realized it until after our party left. This is partly due to the fact that I don’t watch much TV or many movies, and partly due to the fact that I am not up on pop culture. In fact, I recently went a showing of a documentary attended by the cast of Criminal Minds, at the Pasadena Film Festival, and I didn’t realize I was having a conversation with Shemar Moore, aka Derek Morgan, until someone interrupted to ask for an autograph. And yet, I kicked Kirsten Dunst in the face last week in my ballet class.
I told you a few months ago about my hard-core ballet class, which continues to kick my butt every Monday night. Part ballet, part Pilates, part drill sergeant, we sit-up, push-up, grand plié and arabesque our way to slimmer legs, stronger abs and better posture. Usually, I hide in the back, giving myself as much room as possible since I well, have a history of running into walls. But, space has been at a premium lately, probably due to newly made New Year’s resolutions, but also that swimsuit season starts in March in LA. And recently we’ve had a new dancer join the ranks: Kirsten Dunst. While I know that I should be used to seeing celebrities as I live in the valley, epicenter of celebrity sightings; I am never used to seeing them quite so close, barefoot, sweaty and makeup free.
The whole class was so nonchalant like, the famous Spiderman heroine wasn’t standing right next to us. I feel like I could tell a hundred stories about my life and things that have happened, but none of them would have the dramatic effect of “and then I kicked Kirsten Dunst in the face.” And Internet, I know you are suppose to play it cool around celebrities and act like it’s no big deal because Stars, They’re Just Like Us!, but I don’t mind telling you that I was Freaking. Out. Oh look, she’s sweating from the 100 leg lifts we just did, just like me! She’s reaching for her water bottle after bar work too, just like me! She wears two bobby pins in her hair too, just like me! I felt like People Magazine had come to life just before my eyes, and I couldn’t stop staring. Now, the first time she had come into class, I averted my eyes for fear of making any sort of eye contact. However, this time I was too busy watching her every move that I failed to pay attention, resulting in a merge of her left cheek and my right foot. Of course, she was a classy girl, just brushing off my clumsiness and laughing alongside of me at the painfully exhausting leg lifts.
By the time class was over I was so exhausted, but I was desperately trying to start a casual conversation with her. We could be best friends, and she could run away with my brother-in-law Chris who is inexplicably in love with her. I wanted to tell her that I always cry when watching Little Women, she played a faithful Amy. I wanted to ask her if her name is pronounced KUR-sten or KEER-sten, and how I can get tickets of the On the Road premiere, my all-time favorite book? But instead of further embarrassing myself, I decided to head home, and tripped over my own two feet on my way out the door. Yep, just call me Grace.