Do I really look that bad?

Never in my life did I think reality TV would be on my list o' life experiences. But, thanks to my adoring fiance (and hordes of caring friends and family who's also helped along the way), I'm going to be on What Not to Wear!

It still doesn't even seem real. Last night. How it all went down. Stacy London and Clinton Kelly practically jumping me at a Velvet Brick show at the Red Eye Fly downtown. What seemed like a dozen cameras. A lighting crew. A (fake) $5,000 Bank of America debit card with my name printed on it. And dozens of familiar faces – you sneaky bunch – filling the crowd.

Apparently this has all been in the works since last February when, as I sat on the couch recovering from the C-section and both of us adjusting to a brand new Julianito, Ian and Corey thought it would be a kind gesture (and shot in the dark) to nominate me for this fashion makeover reality TV show on TLC. Now, I've watched my fair share of What Not to Wear and always take mental notes as I watch the hosts purge an unsuspected duckling's closet and, by the end, reveal a sharper dressed, better presented and more confident swan.

I think we all know the weak spots or challenges in how we present ourselves. Weight, skin tone, acne. Unruly curly hair, an unhealthy addiction to Target, perhaps. I'm a sucker for sentimentality, too. Those shorts of my dad's that I stole when I graduated from high school kept me horribly out of fashion (on both sides of the Atlantic) for years. But they were his. And they went with me on all those adventures. Who cares if they have holes in the crotch and the drawstring is about to snap? How could I betray something so comforting to both my body and my soul? I can't be the only person who feels this way about tangible items. Do all pack rats feel this way? Is it a Cancer thing?

So I better get ready to say goodbye to those shorts. And the 3-sizes-too-big pants I've doodled all over that I bought with Australian Russ my freshman year of college. And my so-called motorcycle jacket that I bought in Spain and that (barely) kept me warm during those winter travels to England and Italy. And my dad's (stained) Padres baseball shirt that he worn when I was a baby. Oh and my embarrassingly ugly yet incredibly comfortable collection of slip-on shoes.

I'm headed to New York at the end of the month. That's pretty much all I know for now. I'll keep you posted.

Thank you all for helping bring this awesome opportunity my way. I owe you big time.

Thanks, Paige, for the photos!