At the appointed time I drag myself to the ballroom and wait as the A-listers are hovered over for final hair and makeup touches. I soak up this time of being so near the celebrities while the pro dancers are on stage for a massive opening number. Watching their perfectly coordinated, lightening-fast dance steps is awesome. In comparison, the rest of us dance like clumsy kindergarteners.
"Chelsea?"
Mary Kay, the makeup girl, approaches with her bag of tricks.
"You don't need to bother. It's fine."
"Nonsense. You're a star too." She tugs me into the light and expertly brushes powder over my nose and forehead.
"Hardly. I'll be out of here soon."
She smiles, but doesn't disagree, then reapplies my lip color and gloss. "Whatever happens, you look great."