Meg here! I would like to let you all know that my life is absolutely ridiculous and I’m in on the joke so please no hate emails about how superficial and stupid I am. I mean, I know. You don’t have to take the precious time out of your lives to let me know, yes Carol in St. Louis, I’m talking to you. Leave me alone. I don’t force you to read my babble you bitter, mean spirited witch.
So, lets get to the dirt. I love Chanel purses. I don’t have a 401k or children or anything like normal but I do treat myself to an obscenely expensive handbag once a year. I meet with fashion and beauty editors constantly and if I don’t have the right purse and shoes I’m not getting taken seriously so it’s a business expense? Plus, I like them. No, I love them. There’s no shame in my game and if a quilted bag makes me happy and costs as much as a used luxury car then shoot me. Maybe I need to find God but I’ve been praying at the altar of the House Of Chanel for as long as I can remember, religion is personal.
Dave and my main gay Denny were at my house and I was due for a little forehead and lip injections. As I say in the video, I date someone 5 years younger then me, which is new for me. The age difference doesn’t bother me, as long as no one is the wiser that there’s an age difference. Is that vain and wrong? Perhaps, but I never claimed to be a role model.
Anyhow, I asked Dave if he would film it and Denny is staying with me so he had no choice in the matter. We were talking needles and blood and pain and then this happened…
Meg: OMG, no really, OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! (I grab the corner of my kitchen table to keep me from fainting on the ground)
Dave & Denny: they yell from the living room-What happened? We can’t talk about blood. She’s about to collapse. Meg!! What’s wrong?
I have no words. I can’t speak. All I can do is raise my treasured, black Chanel Caviar collection handbag off the table. It’s at this point they see, it’s so much worse then fainting from a medical conversation. My leather handle has become ripped from the bag. It’s hanging on by threads. After a DECADE of seasonal use, RIP Black Quilted Chanel.
I did what any good, superficial woman in Hollywood does. I said…
We have to go get my lip shot up and my forehead done and then immediately head into Chanel. The salespeople will see my fresh facial work blood and treat me nicely. If they see all the needle marks on my face then they’ll think rich Beverly Hills bitch and we might get some service. The absolute ridiculousness of this statement shows that I was in a state of panic. I have not budgeted for a new, black Chanel bag.
Dr. Simon Ourian is not only the BEST celebrity cosmetic dermatologist in Beverly Hills and his practice The Epione Center is an A-List mecca, he’s also my friend. He’s my friend and I love him and his wife. I also love that since he has a Beverly Hills wife he understood when I said “Simon, can we please hurry and fix my face? I’ve had a day. My Chanel bag broke.” Like any smart man in the know he replied “Oh no, are you O.K.? I’m on my way.”
Yes, again, I know. I never would answer “world peace” for my one wish in a beauty pageant. I don’t think you’re fake if you just own it. I’m a good person and I love Ross and Loehmann’s so don’t begrudge me over my Chanel bag meltdown. Why am I even apologizing? Stop being so judgey!!
The only thing that can make me feel better is having poison injected into my face. That and double vodka tonics. If I can’t rely on my stupid expensive purse to get me by then I’m going to have to rely on another old bag that’s fading…My face.
I decided to go with “don’t look at my bag that is in the wrong color for this season, hopefully you will be distracted by my new, plump lips.” My Gram reads this site and she is salt of the earth, goes to church everyday and probably never spent more then $30 on a purse on sale so I hope you log off now Gram because, much like Carol from St. Louis, I don’t need to hear it. I KNOW.
I went to Simon’s and I look as amazing as a well maintained 35 year old can look. Botox? Does it hurt? No and no and no. Please believe me. Lips? Yes, they hurt. It’s not Dr. Ourian, they just hurt. I mean you’re shooting stuff into your lips that make them expand. I want to yell out OWWWW! When he does it but instead, completely subconsciously, I hum The Star Spangled Banner which is so odd. I’m patriotic and all but it must be a past life thing. How is that my go to and not Born This Way?
It’s been a day since my shots and they look fab. The purse? Well, it can be fixed. I told my boyfriend what happened under the guise of “Santa, I’ve been a good girl.” His non-Simon response? “You need a new black bag? OK, does it have to be Chanel?” Who even asks that? It’s (next to my dog Prudence) my one happiness in life. Yes. Santa, it HAS TO BE CHANEL!
Sorry Grammy, sorry Tom (the boyfriend) sorry humanity, sorry Carol in St. Louis but I had a bad day. I try. Yes, the purses are expensive but can you really put a price on happiness> Side note, you can. The bag I want runs about 4k.
That may seem excessive or too much but….No, see what I did there. I was going to rationalize and I’ve heard you can’t do that with a crazy so I’m not even going to try for that redemption.
I NEED A NEW FUCK YOU PURSE (Sorry Gram)
I meant, I need a new, nice Chanel purse. I can’t be the only one that clings to luxury item. Talk me off the ledge, what’s yours?