I know It's Not Just Me

These untouched images of Britney Spears' Candies ads came out this week. Apparently she wanted them to be released. As you can see below, Brit Brit has a pretty slammin' bod pre-Photoshopping (especially for having two kids and a serious FrappaCheetoes diet) so it's not like she was magically transformed. Just a little Barbiefied.

See for yourself.

Am I the only person who wishes they could get one of their own pictures Photoshopped just to see how good you could potentially look? Please say I'm not.

It's annoying to look at some celebrity photos knowing that that's not actual perfection. Sure they might have stunning features, but we all know that entirely perfect complexion and hairless, wrinkle and flab-free image is a mirage.

It's not real life.

And for one freaking second, I want to live in that dream world too.

Okay, so the following story is semi-relevant but mostly just random and weird.

Soon after we moved here, The BFF and I met a guy who was a celebrity photo retoucher. He was actually a college friend of Jack, the WBDB. We all went out one night, and The Retoucher was quite taken by The BFF. I think he even tried to escort her back home that night, but she sneakily ditched him. Things fizzled soon after with the WBDB, and The Retoucher wasn't thought about again. Except for when I'd secretly wish I were friends with a professional retoucher to make me beautiful in pictures (vain much?).

So fast forward like four months, and the next thing we know, this guy is visiting the Hamptoms summer house that The BFF and I shared with approximately one million people, including Jack, the WBDB. The Retoucher came Fourth of July weekend, which was already tarnished by an ill-planned landlord inspection and dreary weather. Considering there were three times as many people as should have been sharing the Early Nineties Nautically decorated house (the kind with pastels and tacky everything that I love), most of us needed to evacuate befor her arrival.

Unfortunately, there's only so much to do in Hampton Bays, the ghetto of the Hamptoms, when the weather wasn't nice so the group went to the worst diner I've been to. It partially sucked because of the sub-par food, but mostly because of the short-tempered, space cadet fleet of bitter waitresses.

However, even worse than the environment was the company. The BFF and I got stuck in a booth with Jack, The Retoucher, and Jack's other friend. Jack was in a horrible mood that morning and being rude to everyone. His friends were both annoyed with him, but were also annoying themselves. The BFF and I weren't making it much better. It slowly drifted into the most painfully awkward social sandtrap I've ever been suffocated by. We finally reached the pinnacle of pissed off when The BFF said outloud what we were thinking in our heads. "This is the worst brunch ever."

I chimed in, "This is the worst Fourth of July ever." This was especially painful for me since the 4th is one of my favorite summer activities. The brunch only got worse, the five of us got more miserable, and The BFF put in her iphone headphones to tune everyone out further. The polar opposite of how Fourth of July is supposed to be spent.

The day was partially salvaged later when the group ventured to the beach. The BFF and I walked along the water past a group of super preppy cute guys playing football. As we walked by, one "over threw" the pass to his friend who did a running dive to catch it, literally at our feet. It was like if cute Ralph Lauren models jumped out of the catalogue and threw themselves in your lap.

Swoon.

Seriously, that sort of display boosts your ego for a long time. One and a half years and counting to be exact.