Lies That Chelsea Handler Told Me by Chelsea Handler

prestigious Westside preschools. I looked in the mirror feeling a little bloated from all the sushi and then suddenly remembered I hadn’t taken my birth control pill that day. I immediately pulled it from the inside pocket of my purse, popped it into my mouth, and swallowed it dry.
DANCING WITH THE STARS
    One of my lifelong career goals, besides securing a hair product endorsement deal, is one day to be a contestant on Dancing with the Stars. I work The Secret, and Fortune and I have a vision board in our office of things we want to accomplish. On the poster is a photo of Justin Bieber from J-14, a Pantene ad with that woman from What Not to Wear, and a photo of me dressed up in a Dancing with the Stars costume complete with sequins and a hot pink feather boa. Unlike other people in the office, I am honest about my desire to be on TV and believe that being on Dancing with the Stars would really help my career. I’m sorry, but I dance with my sons in my bedroom while watching the show, and the waltz does not look that difficult. Let’s just say I’m not afraid to look to the side and walk backward. Besides, how cute would my kids look all dressed up and cheering me on in the audience?
    So one day, in our usual morning meeting, Chelsea, who is very ADD but has never been diagnosed and therefore does not take Adderall, all of a sudden turned to Tom, our executive producer, and said, “And we need to get back to the casting director from Dancing with the Stars about who we think would be good on the show,” and then shoved another forklift of arugula and hummus into her mouth.
    “You don’t want to do it?” I asked Chelsea.
    “No, that show is a nightmare, besides the fact that I’m a horrible dancer.”
    Then Brad piped in: “Well, the obvious choice is Chuy.”
    “We already pitched him, but they can’t take a little person because there are too many dances he couldn’t really perform with a regular-size dancer,” Tom said.
    “There has got to be another little person professional ballroom dancer whom they could hire who could be his partner,” Brad argued.
    At that point I wanted to scream out, “Chuy complains about walking from the kitchen back to his office. He is not going to be able to properly dance the cha-cha for three minutes straight!” But I didn’t. I also didn’t say I wanted to do it, because anytime I pitch anything involving myself, the other writers say things like “And let’s take a wild guess, you’re going to play Sarah Palin.”
    Then Chelsea said, “No, they know that both Chuy and I are out, so they’ll consider someone from the round table.”
    Oh, thank God. Of course it still didn’t mean I’d get it, because chances were they were also talking to the Daily Show correspondents, but there was a chance.
    Then Brad uttered the unthinkable: “Fortune should do it. That would be hilarious.”
    “Fortune, you really are a good dancer,” Chelsea said. “We all saw you at the Christmas party. You get a little too sweaty, but you have rhythm.”
    “Thank you. My mother put me in jazz dance classes when I was seven. I guess it really paid off,” Fortune replied, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
    “It would be fantastic,” Brad said enthusiastically. “Think how much weight you’d lose, Fortune. It would be a total transformation.”
    “I bet they’d put you in Life & Style magazine and write about how you got your Dancing with the Stars body,” Tom said.
    At this point, jealousy was boiling over in me. I had started to shake a little when Chelsea said, “Okay, great. So, Tom, you’ll talk to them?”
    When Fortune and I returned to the office, she looked at me and said, “Heather, I know how much you want this.”
    “Fortune, don’t be ridiculous. If they want you, you have to do it. Don’t worry about it. But, honestly, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
    “Totally understandable.” Fortune put in her ear buds and began typing.
    The rest of the day was