An Evening with Clinton Kelly

I saw Clinton Kelly.  Up close.  Personal.  Close enough for me to admire his cognac leather shoes and matching belt.

I’m sorry.  What?  Did you just say that you don’t know who Clinton Kelly is?  Oh, honey, no.  You don’t mean it.  Here, take a refresher course.  This is his show, What Not to Wear, that he co-hosts with the inimitable Stacy London.

I recognize that knowing nod.  You’re forgiven.

Clinton Kelly is promoting his new book “Oh No She Didn’t,” and I was fortunate enough to score a ticket to his book signing/talk.  Rembot and Baby Shark are in a playgroup, and a few of us playgroup moms were so excited to go – and of course we all wrung our hands in deliberation of what to wear.

My closet has been a battleground for me.  Having two children back to back has resulted in a surplus of about, oh, twenty pounds, so I’m trying to get used to being comfortable in my skin.  I ended up wearing this:

I’m tired (it was the end of the night and I realized I needed a “what I wore” shot for bloggy purposes), and the Lazy Susan cabinet is open (shout out to baking soda!), but whatevs, yo.

So I drove up to the event, and got stuck in traffic.  (Second shout out goes to my fellow playgroup moms for saving me a front row seat!)  I waited in line to show my ticket.

Oh, hi, Clinton! I'm here!! We're going to hang out really soon, okay, hon?

Clinton came out and he, of course, looked great.  And was hysterical!  And he took audience questions.  And that, dear reader, is when he talked to me.  Me!  ME.  There were a bunch of questions throughout the course of the night, and I mustered up the courage to ask mine.  He walked over to me and put the microphone up to my face.  I was momentarily rendered unconscious.  But then I came to and asked:

“What styles do you recommend for someone who is apple-shaped?”  (Ref: where I told you about that I’m 20 lbs over my norm.)

“First of all, I’d say stop comparing yourself to fruit.”  Cue audience laughter.

“Wait?  Are you talking about you?  You are so cute!”  And that’s when I died.  End of my story.  No?  Okay, I’ll finish.

“I’m sucking it in pretty hard.  And I’m wearing Spanx.”  Cue audience laughter.  Alright, maybe the audience didn’t laugh, but I’m trying to paint a picture of a hysterical and charming dialogue between me and Clint.

“You’re wearing Spanx?  Why?  It’s just me.”  We both throw our heads back and laugh.  I hook my arm around his and we walk up to a woman a row over and talk to her about the rules of chest exposure.  (That last sentence didn’t actually happen.)  He looked directly at me while answering my question, because I’m important because he has good manners. He was able to hold eye contact like a normal person, while I was terribly nervous and drug-addict fidgety.

Anyway, he did the book signing at the end.  He signed my copy of Oh No She Didn’t (which I absolutely read cover-to-cover, that night) and we chatted for about 30 seconds.  Long enough for him to not realize that we were posing for a picture.  We were rushed, and I was kind of making an unintentional crazy face, so I’ll spare you (and Clinton) (and my friend/fellow mom playgrouper next to me who shall not be revealed because she hasn’t read this blog yet) and not defile this picture of Clinton and friend.

I took a picture of the two of us when we got home, though.  He probably wants a copy, don’t you think?

(Third shout out goes to my Pottery Barn Pumpkin Knockoffs behind me.)