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A Guest Blog by Jody Payne

<strong><strong>Do you watch Hollywood stars pose in gorgeous gowns covered in sparkling sequels and believe they live charmed lives? </strong></strong>

<strong><strong>They just stand there looking beautiful and actually get paid for it. Big bucks. Do you wonder where you went wrong? How can life be so unfair? Would you gladly trade places with them? </strong></strong>

<strong><strong>Are you sure? </strong></strong>

<strong><strong>Are you willing to travel to Africa to adopt a child just so you can stay in the headlines? Remember that your fans will lose interest, and you’ll need to go back to get another one or try something else. A child is forever. You can’t use him as a prop and then put him away until the next publicity crisis comes along. </strong></strong>

<strong><strong>Do you honestly believe a fifty year old model looks as good as a twenty year one? Not without help. A lot of help. A nip here. A tuck there. Pretty soon, you’re in the hospital for a complete overhaul. Are you up for it? </strong></strong>

<strong><strong>Are you sure? </strong></strong>

<strong><strong>If you have the cosmetic surgery and a lengthy convalescence, who will cook dinner for your family? Carpool the kids? Even if you can afford to pay someone to do these things, would you really want to forfeit the time with them just so strangers will admire you? </strong></strong>

<strong><strong>Are you sure?</strong></strong>

<strong><strong>I don’t know about you, but I’m no Angelina. My life isn’t glamourous. I don’t dine on champagne and caviar. I don’t even own a spandex dress trimmed in sequins. All that glitter would scare the horses. It doesn’t take a lot of shiny stuff to set a show horse off, and me stuffed into spandex is something you probably don’t want to think about. </strong></strong>

<strong><strong>There is this: We actually know nothing about the lives of these famous women. They may have been sitting up all night with a feverish child. They may be trying to balance a checkbook that refuses to cooperate. </strong></strong>

<strong><strong>For all their great looks and glamour, their relationships don’t seem to last very long. Maybe they dream about forgoing the rigorous life of strenuous exercise and makeup before peeking out their front doors costumed in the latest fashions from Paris.      </strong></strong>

<strong><strong>When I walk about on my ranch in my old jeans and t-shirt to watch the sunrise, I’m not greeted with flashbulbs. Instead, the cattle saunter up to the fence and look for handouts of range cubes. </strong></strong>

<strong><strong>My bull, Billy Clinton, probably outweighs my John Deere. He’s that big. To a city person, he looks downright scary, but he’s pretty predictable, even if a little fickle. (Hence, the name.) </strong></strong>

<strong><strong>This time of year, the cows bring me their calves for inspection, and my heart is filled with the love of the animals, the land, and the God who gives me these blessings. </strong></strong>

<strong><strong>To me, this is the good life. However, I will admit this, I wouldn’t refuse a small tin of that caviar, but I wouldn’t trade places with any movie star in the world. </strong></strong>

<strong><strong>What about you? Would you trade? I mean, you know, other than the caviar.</strong></strong>

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