The REAL Fancy Nancy

I know what you’re thinking. That frumpy woman in sweatpants and Ugg boots has no business indentifying with this superstar to the left. But I am, in fact, the REAL Fancy Nancy. You see, before 3 babies sucked every ounce of energy and giving-a-s**t out of me, I was quite fancy. Perhaps I would be still if I fit into my wardrobe or had time in the morning between breaking-up wrestling matches and trying to get some calories into all the needy bellies in my house to appraise my jewelry collection and curate the perfectly-accessoried ensemble. But sadly these days I am quite impressed with myself if I leave the house in matching shoes (true story: the other day after hours of errands my friend remarked on my interesting style choice to wear 2 different Birkenstocks. It was charitable for her to think this was in any way a choice). But once upon a time, I was an endearingly high-maintenance, accessory-loving, overly-dramatic child who just so happened to be the favorite niece of Fancy Nancy’s illustrator, Robin Preiss Glasser. And when she was given the 1st manuscript, my aunt channeled my fancy energy, dug up some old pictures, and got to work creating the now-world-famous FN. And let me tell you something: I, too, have been thrust into stardom. After finding out who I really am, all the little girls in my son’s class fought over holding hands with ME on the field trip to the farmer’s market. And I have signed my fair share of books; grandmothers get very excited to get my autograph for their granddaughters. So being the real FN certainly has its perks. But it is also a lot of pressure. School drop off/pick up for my kids has become oh-so-stressful since my true identity has gotten out. I constantly feel like I am letting all the 6-yr-olds down when I show up in spit-up covered pj’s. But I do make sure to keep a lipstick in my glove compartment, which I only wear when I might run into all the little 6-year-old mean girls who intimidate me so. I cannot bear to imagine what they must say behind my back when I show up sans boa and tiara.