I am finding out that when a movie you are in goes to theaters you get invited to a lot of fancy events. During the first hour of these aforementioned gatherings the guests of honor are asked to do a series of poses on a 50-foot-long carpet of red. The photographic results of my experience on cardinal-colored tapestry have ended up on Facebook and IMDB. This is the cause of all sorts of interesting questions from friends and acquaintances.
One question or pondering expression that often comes surging from an offender’s mouth is: Are you rich now? I look behind me. Have you mistaken me for someone else? I have also gotten the query: Are you going to forget about me now? I find that an ironic question, because every time I hear my name announced and I do the obligatory suck-the-stomach-in spin onto the red carpet I ask myself: How much longer will I be asked to do this? and Do I really deserve to be here?
My inner critic is very vigilant and if any doubts pass through my mind she comes surging forth to remind my ego, in order of increasingly horrifying embarrassment, all of my shortcomings.
In the approximate 2 minutes and 47 seconds it takes to pose on the first inch of carpet to the last inch, my inner critic races to action. My, is she vicious. The fancier the event that I attend, the more malice she gathers into her being before she hisses in my ear: You’ve got to be kidding me!
