The pursuit for fame, while seductive in the monetary perks of success, has always left me baffled. Why in the hell would anyone want to live in a world where everybody knows your name, privacy's a thing of the past and anonymity hits the pavement running? And as unrelenting and judgmental I am towards celebrities, I'd be a walking coke binge from slings and arrows being hurled my way. Just hearing the verbal diarrhea from people I ran into after getting my attack of the killer tonsils had me feeling even more self-conscious than usual. Backhanded compliments of the "Omigod, you look fab! Did you lose weight? Oh you were sick? Aw. Well.... you look amazing, though!" variety only served as fodder for the uncomfortable silence that soon followed. Never mind the fact I cried myself to sleep for half a week, the important part was I got all the benefits of retching up lunch without the nasty bile aftertaste. Gee, thanks. For the average person, it truly is cruel to be kind. Take that multiply it by 1,000 in high-definition scrutiny and there you have a taste of what it must be like to have those struggles played out in checkout aisles nationwide. In short, the media's a motherfucking bitch. Which leads me to the incredible shrinking diva-on-a-mission, Janet Jackson
. You always know when her project's on the horizon as the Pillsbury doughgirl cloak starts falling by the wayside just in time for the new video premiere. I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I'm ecstatic that her snap-back warranty hasn't expired yet. She's been my visual motivation on my fridge for years and this latest metamorphosis is just what I need to step up my summer slim down. However, the extreme measures undergone to make sure that famous figure is camera-ready again has to take a toll. We saw where playing on the yo-yo string of scale fluctuations got Luther, is it going to take another exhaustion spell on tour to get Jan's head right? But then again when you've got a family like hers, it isn't that far of a stretch to see how winding up with a face full of Häagen-Dazs is almost inevitable.
Labels: body image, Janet Jackson