This is a story about a woman named Lucky.
Hello, I am the famous actress from Britney Spears’ “Lucky.” When you last heard from me in 2000, I was cry-cry-crying in my lonely heart. I don’t do that so much anymore.
When Britney wrote that song about me, everything seemed to be going my way. I was a famous Hollywood girl coming off an Academy Award for Best Actress. I had adoring fans. I looked exactly like Britney Spears with a beauty mark. That should have been enough.
So, if there was nothing missing in my life, then why did those tears come at night? The answer is a complicated mix of depression and some personal family issues that’s not really ideal for a pop song. The point is your twenties are hard, and it’s important to seek help when you need it.
A big problem was my very ironic name. Obviously Luck plays a factor, but I put in a lot of hard work, ok? What I learned though is that seeking validation for your efforts is only going to cause more cry, cry, crying in your lonely heart, thinking.
No amount of old-timey paparazzi cameras or staring in hand mirrors can make you love you, and that’s what matters. I wasn’t taking care of myself. The world was spinning, and I kept on winning. But do you know what happens when it stops? A year on a failed TV Land sitcom called UNlucky is what happens when it stops.
So I took a break from Hollywood. I learned how to woodwork. Me, Lucky, woodworking! Can you believe it? Sometimes I can’t, but then I look out my window and see the birdhouse, and I think, “I built that. I built that with my own two hands.” It feels good.
Life is good now. Early morning, I wake up. There’s a knock, knock, knock on my door. But do you know who it is? My adoring children who come first. There are greater things in life than fame. I hope you all realize that.
I’ve started to get back into acting, but on my own terms. You may have seen me recently in critically acclaimed indie fare. I was a teacher who took in a homeless student in Chalkboard Confessions, and the drug-addicted daughter who is a liability to her Senator father in Blue State(s). I’m weirdly good at this mumblecore stuff, and I’m also going to be in an upcoming Coen brothers movie playing Francis McDormand’s wacky sister who accidentally ripped off the Omaha mafia.
I didn’t even mention my season-long guest arc on one of those half-hour Showtime dramedies. That was an easy Emmy. I think I was always sort of a character actor, but my leading woman looks kept me from getting juicer roles, you know?
Are there things missing in my life? Of course. I didn’t get the kids into the preschool we wanted. No one yells, “oh my God, here she comes!” when I walk down the street anymore. Our ceiling drips and the plumbers can’t figure out why. But guess what? The tears don’t come every night, and when they do, I try to address the problem and talk to someone. It helps.
I’m thinking of going back to school? Random, I know, but it turns out I’m really into mechanical engineering. Who knows what the future holds! I feel really good about it.
In conclusion, please stop singing that song when I’m at the playground with my kids. I don’t sing about your crying nights from before you got your life together. I made my own luck. I am my own star.