making me look fat right now.” But
that last part is BS. She knows it.
“I’m aware of everything I need to
work on, and I know the steps to
get there,” she says with pretty
legit conviction. First step: “Look
in the mirror and say, ‘Bitch, you
got this.’”
child in the relationship? I’ve always been the adult,” she says. “So it’s mostly
me having to work on my shit.” That includes her temper. But to be fair, she’s
on a prescription that causes mood swings. “I have to take a step back and be
like, Is this actually upsetting you? Or is this, like, the medication?”
And that, it turns out, is the most L.A. thing about all this: the plot twist.
Forget what you think you know about her, about young women, about young
women in Hollywood—Sarah is ruthlessly self-aware. At a level that would
make anyone, let alone image-obsessed La-La Land, bow down.
“There have been days when I’m either like, I’m gonna wear my tightest
jeans and a fucking bra—I don’t care if I get papped because I look fucking good,
or, Is there anything I own that’s looser? Because even these sweatpants are
“What you see is what
you get, which is most
likely a really annoying,
loud,
brash,
opin ion ated,
most-of-the-time-
disgusting human
creature.”
FO
R^
SH
O
PP
IN
G
IN
FO
RM
A
TI
O
N
,^
G
O
T
O
C
O
SM
O
PO
LI
TA
N
.C
O
M
.
May 2020 Cosmopolitan 109