Becoming Diva

You could be a diva! And you! And you!

THE TIRED FEMINIST

They say the first step is admitting you have a problem. I’m not sure I have a problem. But I have a … something. A realization? Let’s go with that — a realization. Here goes: I might be a diva.

Some clarification might be helpful here. When we think of divas — or at least when I think of divas — it’s the singularly named singers (Cher, Madonna, Beyoncé) who live in a different strata where bathing is only in solid-gold tubs and walking around in meat-dresses is de rigueur. Sure, deep down they are people just like us. They fart. They get colds. But their lives also come with a staff and loads of money. A staff of people and lots of money can make anyone’s life a hell of a lot easier and certainly frees up time to devote to creative pursuits and working it. I have…

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