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Rejoice. Count your blessings. Discover paradise.

The avalanche of celebrity breakups is a boon in disguise for us. Of course, it’s ghoulish to prey upon celebrity divorces. It’s perverse to spit into their crystal palace – or pee into their goldfish bowl.  It’s demoniac to relish their ugly skeletons. It’s voyeuristic,  it’s parasitic. It’s –

– cathartic. Liberating. Introspective. Epiphanic.

You see that millionaire Adonis with the killer dance moves & a billion drooling fans? Well, his wife is all smiles as she celebrates escape from his gilded cage.

See that gal whose taut globes are the envy of the globe; who has fame & wealth firmly scissored between her equally taut calves? Well, her husband is straining at the leash & frothing at the mouth.

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So why on earth are you cribbing about your thigh cellulite & receding hairline? Washboard abs & glossy hair don’t guarantee happiness. Why pursue that elusive promotion – they don’t guarantee happiness either. How dare you sneer at the gift of togetherness with your partner – when loneliness is the new epidemic?

You & I are lucky to be non-celebrities. Our bad hair day doesn’t get international headlines, our daily battle with the maid doesn’t get splashed in tabloids, our pensive frown doesn’t get dissected by paparazzi as ‘Trouble in Heaven.’

Celebrities don’t live a fantasy life, they live a hunted life. They don’t live a dream, they live an illusion.

Looks, fame, wealth, fans, status are mirages. Utopia lies elsewhere – in your own house & life; in your kids & wife; in your smiles & strife.

You don’t need a brand new partner to be joyous. You just need new eyes to rediscover your existing partner.

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