2008-05-16

Of matters perhaps too delicate for some readers...

If you browse the gossip sites/mags/shows as I do (and I don't apologize for it anymore), then you are probably aware of the SCANDAL involving the National Enquirer, a handful of female "celebrities," and what is alleged to be the TERRIFYING AMOUNT OF CELLULITE on their asses and legs.

This is a subject near and dear to me, due in large part to the fact that I admittedly suffer from this horrible condition. From the knees down, it's all good. From the waist up, it's as tight as can be expected given my age and the fact that I simply refuse to work out more than an hour, four days a week. Anything more than that, and I wouldn't be able to watch as much reality television as I do. PRIORITIES, people.

Oh, but the stretch between the waist and the knees, chickens. Like a vast expanse of beef tripe that's been repeatedly bludgeoned with a splintered polo mallet. Nothing to be done about it, either: it's been like the lunar surface slathered with a thin layer of port wine cheese since my teens. I couldn't afford what would need to be done to address it, and I'm not the type to don a bikini and go bounding into the Atlantic, anyway, so I live more or less at peace with it, until I have to try something on in some slightly-upscale retail establishment, where the overhead fluorescents throw every divot and lump into the stark, harsher-than-fuck light of reality. It's a dark night of the soul, indeed.

So I generally look forward to the catty cackling of the tabloids when they embark upon their "Stars -- they look like SHIT, too!" features. Because while I KNOW that Angelina probably has throbbing hemorrhoids, Gwyneth Paltrow gets the greasies, and Jennifer Aniston might have to tweeze a chin hair or several, having the photographic EVIDENCE of their flaws makes me want less to hang myself in the dressing room at Banana Republic when confronted with the dimpled mess that is my backside.

But this time around, you've got Mischa Barton and Phoebe Price (Phoebe Price! Who's famous primarily for turning up at events looking like the love child of Ronald McDonald and Pamela Anderson and should be thankful for whatever press she gets...) screeching to everyone who'll listen that the photos were "doctored."

Ladies -- here's the thing: perhaps they were doctored. Perhaps you've got flanks as smooth as an otter's skin. But for the love of Pete -- quit going on like you've been accused of having the clap. The rest of us oatmeal-thighed plebians don't appreciate it.

lisamcc at 11:34 a.m.



6 comments so far
vikkitikkitavi
2008-05-16 14:17:29
Okay, you didn't ask for an "amen," but if you had, I would've given you one.
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Jess
2008-05-16 14:43:55
I'm sitting here eating a donut feeling very impressed that you work out for an hour 4 days a week.
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LisaMcC
2008-05-16 15:22:28
Jess - it's sort of like Sting saying he can have "tantric sex" for 12 hours, but deliberately omitting the fact that this includes dinner and a movie. My "workout" includes getting changed, showering, and trying to avoid the mirrors in the locker room.
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JMK
2008-05-16 23:30:33
mmmmmm...beef tripe.
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PK
2008-05-17 21:54:05
Hallefuckinglujah! I saw The Highly Wronged Ms. Price on ET syaing how "traumatic" is was, GOD, can you IMAGINE? Some people might actually think she's even more meh looking than she, infact, is! I feel so bad for her. Not to mention the red hair and freckles. I guess being hot is preferable to not being a total twat. Or something.
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Lynette
2008-05-19 00:06:01
How do I love thee. Let me count the ways. This post alone could define my adoration for you. Holy crap, I am SO glad I remembered my rule of never eating or drinking while reading your blog. Therefore, the snortiferous laughter did not force anything through my nose. Holy crap you are friggin' HYSTERICAL. I want to be you when I grow up.
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