I really didn't want to do it, I didn't want to wade into this silly photoshop /body double war. As most of you already know, Ms. Moore was photographed for the December cover of W magazine. Since the public release of said photo, every Joe Blow Blogger has been spewing their opinion as to the validity/authenticity of this photo. OBVIOUSLY the freaking pic is photoshopped ...ALL magazine cover shots are photoshopped . The voracious appetite we celebrity haters worshippers have for reams of impossibly beautiful photos of our idols practically demands it. A lot of the blogs are claiming that Demi's head was superimposed on this picture of model Ana Rubjik as she glided down the catwalk in this uber -sexy Balmain dress. Really? Isn't that a bit of a stretch? Frankly, I really don't think Demi's body is so hideous in all it’s middle aged glory that it needs to be completely replaced in order to sell a magazine. Yes, I know she's *gasp* 47...far t...
I dare any of you to deny it. I don't care how many of you declare that your family/kids/husband/dog/friends blah, blah, blah, come first, you are full of shit. We are individuals. We journey into this world alone and we leave it alone. It's all about survival. We are biological entities whose main interest is survival above all else. Of course I love my husband and kids; I love them more than anything. I would gladly take a bullet for any of them without a second thought. But my husband has this irritating habit of frequently stating "It's not all about you, you know". I usually take this bit of criticism, flip him the bird (in my mind) and humbly acknowledge that nothing is about me at all and how could I be so selfish as to consider my self interests at all. So today I snapped. When did my Person Card expire? When I got married? When I had children? When I was born a girl in the first place? Ok, maybe I'm a bit of a navel gazer. I'm not above ...
I've been fuming, muttering and bitching for a couple of days now. Nothing new really but I think I'm justified this time. Behold this attempt at humour by Sarah Hampson of The Globe and Mail : Welcome to Midlife, complete with Bingo Wings and Vampire Dinner Lips In a nutshell, Ms. Hampson goes on to describe the 'cute' names that have been given to various body parts on a middle aged woman: bitch wrinkle, bingo arms, vampire dinner lips and diaper butt to name a few. If you need me to actually identify which body parts go with which moniker, you're too young to be reading my blog and should take your wrinkle-free butt elsewhere. Call me vain and shallow, my loved ones frequently do, but I'm really having a tough time with this aging thing. Love it or hate it, eternal youth is the Holy Grail for a lot of women. I'd hate to put myself in that camp. I like to think of myself as far more centered and accepting of the changes that I'm noticing. But *f...
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