I wake up to the sound of my beeping alarm clock. I hit the snooze button at least three times before I crawl out of bed and into the shower. The water is freezing because my brother has decided to take an unnecessary twenty minutes to cleanse his body. I hate cold showers, yet somehow find them a part of my daily morning routine. Blair Waldorf, on the other hand, has probably never heard of them. In her Upper East Side condo she is awoken by her maid and served a well-balanced breakfast in her silk bathrobe before climbing into her steamy shower. Oh, how I envy the luxury of warm water.
I leave my house with dripping wet hair and quickly walk my fifteen minute stroll to York Mills C.I., just as Blair is being chauffered in her limosine up the block to Constance Billard Academy. I run to my small and messy locker, grab my books and -trying to squeeze past thousands of students - race off to first period, math. Math; such a basic name compared to Blair's Speech and Debate class, or her Italian Literature class, and let's not forget the ever-popular Introduction to Japanese, all of which she is perfectly on time for seeing as the voluminous hallways of Constance never seem to be filled by their mere one hundred students.
Finally, it's lunch, and I make my way to the crowded cafeteria, as Blair takes a seat in the garden courtyard. For Blair, the lunch hour is time for drama. She has her "minions" bring her a low fat yogurt or lightly-dressed salad - no sign of carbs here. She deals with the scandal of Serena's much-older boyfriend, the shocking death of Chuck's dad, and of course, banishing little J from the school steps, Blair's throne of queendom. Me? I'm just muching on my tuna sandwich, listening to my friends complain about their upcoming biology test or whatever rom-com is playing this weekend.
The school day is finally done. I arrive home and plunk myself down on the couch in time to watch Ellen before starting my homework, just as Blair is off to her world renowned designer mother's fashion show. My oh-so-average parents arrive home from work around six, and along with my me and my brother, eat a low-key family dinner - something along the lines of chicken and rice. Blair meets up with her cute boyfriend at a New York cafe for a quick bite - something along the lines of caviar and creme brulee. Later that night, we both climb into our beds, curl up to our pillow, and fall asleep. A typical day in the lives of two teenagers seemingly from two different planets.
Okay, so that was slightly exagerrated...but c'mon, whose life wouldn't pale in comparison to the great Blair Waldorf's, queen of the Upper East Side on the CW's Gossip Girl? I guess now's the part where I'm supposed to say I would still choose my boring life over that of Blair Waldorf's; but no - the honest truth is I'd rather be her. Maybe she's assertive and spoiled and controlling and selfish, but above all that, she knows who is she and who she wants to be, breaking the stereotype of the rich New York City socialite. And for me, that confidence is worth giving up the simple pleasures of my everyday suburban life. Not to mention I'd be dating Chuck Bass...