Again, if you love Gisele Bundchen, then it’s a royal “we,” darlings.

But flitting about on the internets, it seems there is not necessarily a huge contingent of Gisele fans.  Well, female ones, anyway. 

I know she’s a supermodel and all that, but I’ve never thought she was all that attractive.  And trust me, I can totally admit when someone is more beautiful than myself.  There are a lot of them out there.  But Gisele has never done it for me as a model.

Let’s start with the fact that she began dating Tom (Justin Bieber Hair) Brady when his then-girlfriend was pregnant.  That automatically sort of leaves a bad taste in my mouth, even though there might have been some extenuating circumstances I don’t know about.  At least try not to make it public until absolutely necessary, in my opinion.

Then she got married to him and became pregnant.  Good for her.

Except, she lorded over everyone how easy and pain-free her birth experience was.  And she didn’t preface it with any comments about how it was just her experience, and how other women might have very painful births indeed.  Nope, she just tried to make everyone else feel inferior to her badass waterbirth self.  She had no pain because she was so damn hopeful.  Right.

Then, apprarently oblivious to the negative press she was already getting, she gave interviews claiming that her six month old son was potty trained.  Gisele, I hate to tell you, but there is a huge difference between you as a mother reading signals and holding the child over the toilet, and actually being potty trained.  Yes, I know all about elimination communication, and I’m going to stand firm and say that until the baby can get themselves up on a toilet without parental assistance , then that doesn’t count as potty trained. 

And really, I’m not sure I could like anyone who would allow their formerly hot husband to go out in public looking like an aging Justin Bieber. Seriously.

Manolo says, please allow the Manolo to introduce to you the latest addition to the Manolosphere: the blog edited by our good friend Glinda (the editor of Teeny Manolo), and devoted to helping you look your best through the beatifying arts, it is : Manolo for the Beauty!

I was waiting for it. It was just a matter of time. The notice finally came home with my son last week.

Dear Parents, it read, due to the large number of birthday parties in which foods like cupcakes and donuts are brought to class, combined with the food allergies some of the children have, we are now forbidding junk food at the school.  We are just trying to keep your kids healthy, because healthy kids make better learners, blabbity blabbity blaaah.

Even though I have noticed not a smidgen of a weight problem at our school, (I think the allergy reference is a red herring, because they know it would be beyond politically incorrect for parents to call the school and say, “Screw the kids with food allergies, my son deserves a cupcake on his birthday!”) they’ve gone and done it.

They have now started being the food police.

I’m annoyed.

The area in which I live is filled rather to the brim with trim, wealthy, older moms who forbid their children to drink anything but water at lunch.  Or to have anything unhealthier than goldfish. I’m not kidding, a friend of mine is exactly like that.  She could not even bring herself to allow her son to have any junk food at his birthday party, and served a bunch of eight year olds grapes and tomato and mozzarella salad.  At a birthday party.  Now, I am certainly not one who advocates eating junk food on a daily basis, but if you can’t let go a little at a birthday party, there might be some issues that go beyond “committed to a healthy lifestyle.”  This is the same child, who, when not with his mother, takes every opportunity he gets to ingest as much sugar as possible.  Meanwhile, my son, who is definitely allowed leeway in the junk food area, will choose the healthier option about 80% of the time. 

So even though I’m not a libertarian at heart, I’m chafing at the rules the school has decided to impose.

And just to spite them, I’m packing Halloween candy in my son’s lunch every day this week.  And maybe the next.

Disgruntled snort sound here.