It was a weird feeling to run into Ellen DeGeneres face-to-face in my local drugstore.
It was after work and I was a little frazzled, just running in for a new tube of toothpaste and some of those O.B .Ultra tampons. She caught me completely off guard. (The black pants and argyle vest combo I’d worn to work was presentable enough, but I hadn’t hipped it up the way I would have if I’d known she was going to be there.)
I grabbed my toothpaste and rounded a corner and there she was, right in front of me. There was no mistaking who it was. She was better dressed than anyone in my small town’s drugstore, her clothes monochromatic and unwrinkled. Her hair was perfect — sun-streaked and tousled. Ellen looked rested and happy. Her skin was flawless and she was well-lit, even under the fluorescent lights. The woman actually glowed.
I guess my jaw was hanging open. Just when I realized how silly I must look, she did that thing she does so well. She smiled her warm, impish smile, and suddenly I felt like the only woman in the aisle.
But, of course, I wasn’t. Several other women were checking out the point-of-purchase display for Cover Girl cosmetics too.
Still, I want you to know that it was me she was smiling at.
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