The price of fame

Let me tell you something else for free. Being a famous celebrity is exhausting. By the time I'd spoken to Jase the Ace, Paulo Henry and the Leightsmesiter last Friday I was fully ready for a cup of tea and a lie down.


C and I were meeting with the builders to discuss minor things like which of the three children we should sell to pay for the final cost of our house. "Make it snappy" I snapped. "The Press are here in 15 minutes to take my photo." Sure enough, 15 minutes later the photographer from the local daily arrived to snap me. Nervous laughs from the lads. "We thought you were joking." Oh Pulease. When did you last meet a famous celebrity with a sense of humour? Would I joke about such a thing?


I'm not complaining. Raising awareness of breast cancer and the need for early detection is important to me, but not quite as important as my new main role in life. Looking 'not a day over 27' is very challenging when you're 36 but the pressure to live up to media expectations is immense and I can't but feel a responsibility to my public. The last thing I need on top of cancer is to hear muted snickering on the way to the dairy; "There's that lady from the breakfast show. Jeepers, she looks a bit rough. Way older than 28. Paul needs new glasses. Shh, here she comes." And so, I'm taking particular care of what little there is to groom. And being disciplined about wearing shoes, and not just pyjamas to the supermarket.


Fortunately not one of us can ever remember the names, faces, or even the most basic facts of the stories we see on TV and I am now just a clip languishing in the wasteland of cyberspace. For a day Shane Cameron and I shared the MSN homepage, but now only an extensive google search will dredge up the footage of me and the kids casually making carrot juice without any of the usual squawking about who gets to press the buttons on the juicer first. I am, thankfully, not famous.


Three special moments before we fade to a black out:


1) An older couple perched on the bench seats at Coffee Culture Durham St about half an hour after the broadcast, both wearing pink ribbons. They motioned for me to come over and here's what they had to say:

"We saw you and recognised the shop and had to come down straight away. We like coming here anyway but today you gave us an extra reason and we're so glad you did."


2) My Dad listened to his favourite radio host Leighton Smith, interview me from Auckland and here's what Dad had to say:

"Wow, Sach, that was cool. Like Cosmic. Leighton talking to you. So proud of you darling. All I could think was 'shine on you crazy diamond'."


3) The fantastic makeup woman for TVNZ had to deal with my chemo chameleon features - bright red one minute, green and yellow the next. Here's what she had to say:

"That's it. You're done. Finished. Oh no, hang on. Wait, I'm going to have to paint foundation all over your ears."