[Photo: WENN.com]
The Heat Miser totally has a girlfriend.
Oh, Pink. I hate it when we fight.

This shirt is not you. This shirt is Britney Spears lashing out at the press. This shirt is Lindsay Lohan hanging out with her regular friends, just trying to make sure everyone knows she is edgy and baaaaaaaad and anti-The Man even though sometimes, if the club is dark enough and the guy has been in enough action movies, she will consider secretly pleasuring The Man and pretending not to notice that he is texting his friends about it while it happens. This shirt is Avril Lavigne back when she wore ties and wrinkled her brow a lot and thought that a permanent scowl meant she was Alternative. This shirt is definitely Jessica Simpson on the way to another outing with her hairdresser, miffed that he is pretty much her only friend in the world and thinking erroneously that she is being clever in allowing the occasional dark moment to penetrate publicly her perky facade. In short, the shirt is Stupid Rebellion.
You married a Motocross boy. You have a funky aloof-bisexual vibe. You were the welcome balance between frightening Lil' Kim and vampy Christina Aguilera in that "Lady Marmelade" video a while ago, and outdid both of them. And you have a really scary pelvis. You have a fairly legitimate claim to badassery, basically, which makes the overtness of the sweatshirt rather sad.
I think I actually miss the split-pea-soup poncho. Good lord, Pink, look what you've done to me.
PS: I do, however, sort of love that your hair matches Gwen Stefani's wedding dress.
AGAIN WITH THE PANTS.

[Photo by Daily Celeb.]
She is wearing a 1950s mourning shift... AND PANTS. I could handle the former -- it'd actually be quite pretty with the right strappy shoes -- but COME ON, PINK. MEET US HALFWAY. DO NOT MISUSE THE PANTS.
And rethink the hair. You were never in Flock of Seagulls.
My biggest curiosity about Pink is the prominence of her pelvic bone. I find it bizarrely fascinating. Half the time she looks like Eddy Izzard's brother, and the other half, she looks like Eddy Izzard's brother who got pre-op breast implants:

She is not at her peak bonyness in that shot, but the groin still compares to this one:

Pink's pelvis is just so... male. Somebody please take away her Ab Roller. Make her eat a loaf of bread.
[By the way, yes, the above male model is indeed walking the runway at a fashion show clad in nothing but fugly white sneakers, a jacket, and a blue banana hammock. Fashion for men is just so innovative these days: Either it's hobo chic or beach freak, apparently.]
Actually, though, it's possible Pink is figuring out on her own (read: with the help of twenty stylists hired by the record company to fem her up) that she needs to conceal her bone structure because of its distracting hints of masculinity:
This photo is fairly tame, as Pink's outfits go, but it's still something of a nightmare even if it is covering up her man-pelvis. She looks like the dining-room chairs and couches that come in those sterile, fully-furnished corporate apartments: all pastel splotches all the time. And... are those granny panties I see outlined underneath this sheer micro-muumuu?

A book, huh? Is it just stuff you already put on the Web site?
Nope, we wrote the whole thing fresh, just for you.
Awesome. In that case, I want to read it!
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