spearsIt’s been a busy week for both Britney and me as we race against each other to see who can have the more productive, happy, and successful life. Sure, you might think that Brit’s falling behind me a bit what with her child custody battle, hit and run charge, and ecstasy drug rumors, but what we can’t forget is that I have yet to have a number one hit, a child, or a hot bod.

Think about it. Even though Britney was involved in a hit-and-run in a Studio City parking lot, at least, unlike me, she can afford a car. Not to mention that she was being chased by a throng of paparazzi at the time, whereas I only sporadically get catcalled by city workers and the homeless. Face it: I have a lot of catch-up work in front of me and catching up while Spears is distracted is just what I’ve been waiting for.  

But here’s what I’m really scared of: that Brit will hit rock bottom. Let me explain. As we all know from various episodes of Behind the Music and other rockographies, hitting rock bottom is an essential turning point in the lives of pop artists that leads to comebacks, happy marriages, bullet-proof abs, and clean urine tests. Yes, her family is being ripped apart, her career is in shambles, and her body is a shadow of what it once was (a bigger, jigglier shadow). But now she’s just a child molestation accusation, lost limb, or celebrity murder charge away from realizing that she’s got to change her ways and turn her life around.

What does this mean for me? It means that I can’t stop and rest, no matter how many times Brit shaves her head or swallows a sedative. I have to push forward in my own life and focus on my own goals knowing that Brit has the ability to hit the top …one more time.

I’ve decided to start small and not worry about my music career just yet. I’m focusing on the little things that will make me surpass Brit’s fame and glory. I try to go to the gym every day and work on my hot bod. Right now, I have Britney’s slightly doughy built, minus the spectacular boobs and angelic face. I’m most concerned about my abs, which are not hard (and not because I’ve spawned two kids in the last two years), and which my significant other likes to jokingly call my TIRE (are you smirking at that Britney? At least he still loves me.).

I also try to surpass Britney in fields where she often fails. For example, I go out of my way each day to wear underwear.

I know that these days it seems easy to outdo Brit, but you can’t pretend she isn’t a force to reckon with. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she has orchestrated all of the drama of her descent in order to throw me off the track – to see if I would give into sloth and Hostess products as soon as I saw a crack in her tight, tight veneer. She’s probably just waiting for me to skip a day at the gym or give up my dream of one day publishing a book that rivals the emotional and philosophical gravity of A Mother’s Gift, and then she’ll pounce, producing a song with ten times the catchiness of “Toxic” and an accompanying music video with even more sexily futuristic stewardess outfits.

Even if that’s not the case, even if Britney’s entire life is in a nosedive that will be impossible to pull out until she crashes, I still might be in trouble. As far as I’m concerned, every step Brit takes toward hitting rock bottom is one more step toward clawing her way back up again.

Click here for the first installment of Sarah vs. Spears.

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