Hell hath no fury like a supermodel scorned. Remember those unflattering paparazzi photos of her royal fivehead in Australia that hit the internet a couple of weeks ago and it seemed the self-fulfilling prophecy of following in Grandma Winfrey's swollen feet had come to pass? Well, Thigh-ra was surely making her shit list and checking it twice. Which explains the latest publicity stunt in her greatest hits of attention whore syndrome, never missing out on an opportunity to fire back at those meanie buckets (read: bloggers) who made fun of her for making repeat trips to the Sizzler lunch buffet.

"It was such a strange meanness and rejoicing that people had," she says in People's next issue, on stands Friday. The magazine says she believes the photos were snapped at an unflattering angle. (She will wear the same swimsuit on the Feb. 1 episode of The Tyra Banks Show.) Banks, 33, worries about what effect such reports might have on her fans. "I get so much mail from young girls who say, 'I look up to you … I think you're beautiful,' " she tells People. "So when they say that my body is 'ugly' and 'disgusting,' what does that make those girls feel like?"

Oh, I dunno... maybe the way Robin Manning did in the augural pilot? Or 3rd season contestant Toccara Jones or cycle 5 castoff Diane Hernandez felt for not fitting the mold of what a top model should look like? Doesn't feel so nice when the shoe's on the other bloated ankle, eh Ty Ty? Excuse the hell outta me if my heart isn't broken over a drama queen who devoted an episode featuring herself in a fat suit, surrounded by overweight chicks for support — sobbing because she'd been mistreated and ridiculed for being "chunky," knowing that at the end of the day, she can ditch her Shallow Hal experiment with the pull of a zipper but these real-life fat women can't. Well guess who's at the mercy of Photoshop now? Cry me a river, bitch.

Speaking from the soapbox of endless doubt when it comes to my own warped sense of self, I think putting Tyra and fat in the same sentence borders on absurd. In my eyes, she looks lovely with the added roundness to her statuesque frame and carries it well. However, the glaring hypocrisy of a retired glamazon now getting in touch with her Rubenesque side while perpetuating the same rail thin standards on her reality show rings about as hollow as Kate Moss's cheekbones. It's interesting that Tyra chose a career in an industry that judges women exclusively on how they look and how small their measurements are. Now that she's decided to no longer maintain that model standard, she's shocked this noticeable weight fluctuation is put under the microscope. Shocked! She doesn't want to be judged, but as creator/host of America's Next Top Model, she's cashed in on scrutinizing the superficial from contestants who'd forfeit more than a few meals to follow in her Jimmy Choos.

However, the saddest part is seeing her feign martyrdom as some picture perfect portrait of confidence with an ash blonde lacefront courtesy of the Raquel Welch collection. Ironically, during the height of her catwalk fame, she felt free to embrace more Afrocentric looks with regularity. Nowadays you have to play Where's Waldo? to find a picture without the bleached wig tape and self-bronzer obscuring her features. Resembling the bride of George Hamilton with a pallor one roast away from candied yam, I'm supposed to heed pearls of wisdom from the fountain of mixed messages?

After all is said and done, the need for reciting Iyanla Vanzant cribnotes that it's okay not to look like a walking hanger will grow stale. Mouthing "I am beautiful in every single way, words can't bring me down..." in the mirror as a daily affirmation will seem passe. So she'll hop on the Zone and shed the 30 lbs. faster than her ill-advised stab at singing. Real women do have curves, Tyra. Own it 'round the clock, not just in time for sweeps week.

Labels: body image, tabloids, Tyra Banks, weight gain

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