Sometimes I like to pretend that in some alternate universe, I could be friends with celebrity moms. And while I certainly enjoy attending art gallery openings and film festivals, there is also a large part of me that enjoys a good barbeque and some Pictionary. There are some celebrity moms with whom I just don’t think I could hang.
I can’t remember exactly when Ms. Gwyneth began showing up on my celebrity radar, certainly well before she became a mom. I think it was when she began dating Brad Pitt, and I had a very Bluth-ian reaction to their relationship. Her? Then she went and won an Oscar for a role in a movie that was cute, but not exactly something that should have beaten Cate Blanchett.
So I think from that point, I was primed and ready to dislike her.
I do have to make the disclaimer that I really know nothing about her other than what she has chosen to put out there in the public domain. And that’s the disturbing part, because what is out there is far from flattering.
Despite being a native Californian, she hates the United States, and in a snooty way. Not good enough to raise her children here, or some such claptrap. Gwyneth, with all the money you have, I guarantee your children would have a nice life no matter where you chose to live.
I profiled a picture of her daughter’s room way back when, and was struck by the lack of whimsy or playfulness. I’m all about the whimsy, and apparently Mrs. Martin, not so much. Witness her TriBeCa apartment. Check Apple’s bed. What Mrs. Martin may call whimsy, I call “prone to inducing nightmares.”
And then, there is GOOP. Oh, where to begin? Her website has been widely pilloried as elitist, unrealistic, and downright silly. To be so self unaware as to blithely ramble about ensembles worth more than some people’s homes, and using only a particular type of pink salt, or detoxing, or hundreds of other “tips” that only people with time and money to spare can take advantage of.
Oh, and the fact that as a person who was a macrobiotic and seems to have food issues, got to eat across Spain with Mario Batali.
Yeah, that’s definitely what put me over the edge. Bitch.
*If you happen to think Gwyneth is the bee’s knees, then consider it a royal “we.” Oh, and ignore the bitch part, too.
A sick ten month old who refuses to slow down and a husband who is working some extremely odd hours leads me to do an emergency cop-out post of a celebrity picture today.
I think Nahla is beautiful, but for some reason, I’m not loving her dress. Halle, on the other hand, is just annoying in her perfection.
Judging by this new Daniel Edwards sculpture, it’s either breastfeeding, really bad portraits, or post-partum depression.
Before Glinda decides to give Ms. Thang a smack upside the head with her wand.
I’ve tried to keep quiet, I really have.
But the newest tidbit to fall from her pouty lips?
I cannot be silent.
Ms. Judgy McJudgerson has been quoted as saying that breastfeeding an infant for the first six months should be “the law”.
So what are you going to do with people like me, who had the experience of trying, but could not produce enough milk, no matter how many hours I hooked myself up to the damn pump? Or what about those people who are taking lifesaving medication, which may preclude them from breastfeeding due to the medication being secreted in their milk and harming the baby? How about adoptive mothers? Or mothers who, like my aunt, had successfully breastfed one child, only to have the other steadfastly refuse? Or women whose workplace does not provide them a proper place in which to pump during work hours, thus making it ever so much easier to go to formula? Or the million and one other valid reasons women decide that breastfeeding is not the right choice for them.
What are you going to do then, Ms. Charter Member of the Breastfeeding Police?
Throw them in jail? Oh, yes, that makes so much sense.
Or how about giving them a large fine, thus possibly taking away money for necessities, because all of us cannot be super wealthy supermodels married to super wealthy football players.
That was so well thought out, wasn’t it Gisele?
You, ma’am, are no Christy Turlington.
Why don’t you do everyone a big favor and go back to giving your sexyface looks into the camera while getting paid bajillions of dollars and spare us your poorly conceived inanities?
I cannot tell you how many times I have been tempted to go out of the house with sandals and socks. But, I’ve always hesitated because it’s been touted as tacky and a “grandma” move.
But now that M.I.A. has done it, I’ll be the coolest mom on the block!
Right, guys? Right?