Last night, I randomly caught
Mean Girls on cable, and got sucked into watching pretty much the whole thing. What can I say? Regina George victimized me into watching, and then I got hypnotized by LiLo's pretty red hair and THEN got stuck on how much smaller her eyes looked when they had her wearing all that heavy black pencil around them -- you know, really important details that are totally worthy of lengthy scrutiny when I have a pile of about seven
New Yorker magazines I could've been reading instead.
Anyway, for the eleventy-zillionth time, I was struck with just how unkind life -- or maybe more accurately, Lindsay herself -- has been to our girl since that movie.
[Photo: FlynetOnline.com]I mean, there's nothing THERE any more. She went from being a girl with a promising career and enough meat on her bones to be slender yet curvy, to being a brittle twig with no promising prospects who wears see-through
Flashdance shirts with bikini tops, has my grandmother's hands, and clearly doesn't enjoy any of the finer things in life, like chewing food. Was it really worth it? Would she REALLY do it all over again -- the rehab, the dribbling out of clubs, the bad reputation -- just to fit into size 00 jeans? Someone really needs to sit her down
Clockwork Orange-style and make her watch
Mean Girls over and over again before we find out the hard way whether it's possible for a person to occupy negative space. I'd also recommend ditching the clogs, but whatever -- let's take baby steps here.
