October 31 2011
My normal brekkie, then off to the gym. As usual, I hurl around some age-inappropriate weights, but today it catches up with me. Crunch! My lower back spasms. Luckily, I never go anywhere without some emergency meds, so I pop a 1mg Xanax (at least I think it’s 1mg. It’s the little blue oval one – does anybody know what that size is?) and take four Aleves. Probably not the best thing for my liver, but I lead a pretty virtuous life (no drink or drugs for me) so I don’t feel too bad about it.
I’m in agony and completely stoned out of my mind from the drugs, but I soldier into the office for a meeting with the winner of a mentoring contest with DailyCandy.com. I hope I’m being lucid and helpful, but I fear I’m not. I grab a Xanax-induced catnap in my office, then lunch with my work husband/Pierre Bergé and, finally, check in for a much-needed massage in the afternoon for my back.
I am supposed to go to an ultra-glamorous dinner at the home of gorgeous fashion designer Lela Rose (her Norwich Terrier, Stitch, is grumpy and old, like our Liberace) in honour of my pal Celerie Kemble’s gorgeous new decorating book, Black and White (and a bit in between). My black and white outfit is all picked out, but in the end I can’t go because of my stupid back spasms. And FYI, the outfit was really good.
I resolve to be more moderate, eat a bit less, lift lighter weights, not exercise so compulsively, do yoga, work a bit less, sleep more, rescue starving kittens, go to India to work with lepers, etc. But I know that I’ll wake up tomorrow and just start all over again.