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identity crisis
a tale of starstruck lovers
by tracey l. kelley (@TraceyLKelley)
3.31.08
pop culture

He said he didn’t know who she was anymore. She refused to believe that was true, thinking he was looking for an excuse, any excuse at all, to leave. He told her to get a life, and slammed the door.

She kicked off her Carlos Santana heels as she locked the front door behind him. Get a life. There wasn’t anything wrong with her life. He’s the one who needs to find himself.

As she wandered down the hall to the bathroom, she tripped over his forgotten Bob Geldolf man bag, nicking her toe in the process. And the Pat Benatar gunmetal polish was fresh, too! No matter. She had three more bottles of it that she picked up on sale at the Oprah store on her last trip to Chicago. Sitting on the edge of the tub, she reached into her Hayden Panettiere bag and blotted the Victoria Beckham mascara from underneath her eyes. She really thought he’d consider using the Kanye West search engine as a faster way to get his work done.

That’s when he snapped.

He said he could overlook her desire for Lindsay Lohan leggings if they really were more comfortable and the Susan Lucci skincare line if it cleared up adult acne. He said had he known this was going to happen, he never would have given her those Gwen Stefani dolls as a joke. He thought that may have set her off, that he felt responsible, and couldn’t take it anymore.

She sat on the bench in front of the vanity and toyed with the perfume bottles on the countertop. Christina. Halle. Mariah. The gift set of Diddy cologne she bought him on their third anniversary remained unopened on “his” side, a harsh reminder of the dying essence of their relationship. That should have been a sign, she thought.

He never liked any of the gifts she gave him. Not the Rolling Stones wine or the Snoop Dogg hot dogs, which she thought tasted great with ODB’s sour cream and onion chips. She tried to do him a favor by stocking up on Steven Seagal's energy drink for those times when he worked 12-14 hour stretches, but that only added to his anger.

She remembered that one winter night last year, as she stood crying in her JLo lace teddy, the celebratory cans of Paris Hilton’s prosecco untouched on the nightstand, begging him not to pour all of the Sylvester Stallone nutritional supplements down the toilet. Right after that, she hid the Offspring CD and hot sauce gift pack and the discount certificates to events at Cabo Wabo and Margaritaville.

She’d let him cool off, think it through.

By then, it was too late.

Clicking off the hall light, she closed the Rihanna umbrella left open from the rainy night before and tucked it into the closet. In the corner was a woven grass basket where she stashed presents for upcoming events. A Rachael Ray holiday CD and garbage bowl for her mom. An autographed box of Dale Earnhardt, Jr. candy bars for her nephew. A Jessica Simpson bikini and an Ashlee Simpson CD and crop top for her sister. Some Somersize Pasta for her other sister. All carefully selected with love.

She fell back into her leopard print living room chair from the very limited line of Spice Girls furniture, poured a glass of Martha Stewart cab sav, and sighed. With gentle tears dripping down her cheeks, she removed all his text messages that she had hoarded on her B’Phone Samsung, and then clutched a Vern Yip silk pillow close to her chest. The path to self-discovery is so hard, especially in a relationship.

Sure, she’d miss him. But he never let her be herself.


ABOUT TRACEY L. KELLEY

Tracey likes to shake things up and then take the lid off. She also likes to keep the peace, especially in a safe, fuzzy place. Writer, editor, producer, yogini, ('cause yoger or yogor simply doesn't work) by day, rabid WordsWithFriends and DrawSomething! player by night. You can follow her on Twitter: @traceylkelley or @tkyogaforyou

more about tracey l. kelley

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COMMENTS

jael mchenry
3.31.08 @ 1:55p

Awesome!

I just cannot believe that there is such a thing as a Rihanna umbrella. But, clearly, there is.

robert melos
4.1.08 @ 1:49a

Oh. My. God. With all of this consumerism I find it hard to believe the news when I hear about the bad economy. The idea of Oprah Store also scares me. If she were running for president she'd win. Forget platform, the people would just vote for her because she's a television Goddess.

This is amazing.

ken mohnkern
4.1.08 @ 11:52a

Prosecco in a can? And Paris Hilton pushing it?
(1) Gaahhh. (2) That's kind of appropriate.

dave lentell
4.4.08 @ 4:13p

How long did it take you to find all these things? You're so cool. There should be an offical Tracey Kelley product, shouldn't there?





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