Dear Jamie (May I call you Jamie?)
you make me laugh.
you make me cry.
Yet I struggle with you.
I love that youre now a role model for women. youre encouraging us be authentic, love the skin we’re in and (these are the MizFit’s words, JLC. Please to not go stealing em for your next picture book as Ill have nothing with which to launch my tween self-help series!) to be unapologetically ourselves.
BRAVO to you.
What are my struggles then? (thanks for asking. I know this must be difficult for you.)
They all stem from here.
You see, it feels (and I mightcould say FELT after watching you speak yesterday. it’s still an internal struggle.) as though you are tying to hide the fact that you had plastic surgery.
To the MizFit it rang quite hollow when you announced (to paraphrase) LOOK AT ME! I LOVE MY BOD!! FLAWS AND ALL, PEOPLE! Please to emulate me after already having had the niptucks (on your triceps no less?! For shame, JLC. Did you even try these?).
Then, when questioned about them, you responded with this:
“I’ve had a little plastic surgery. I’ve had a little lipo. I’ve had a little Botox. And you know what? None of it works. None of it.”
Is that the reason not to do it?
Youve given MizFit quite a lot to ponder lately (if by ponder you mean debate with various & sundry people all of whom seem to think Im not nice—-which I do).
I appear to be alone in my view that you might not be the ultimate role model for aging gracefully (hello? Susan Sarandon anyone?) but all I can do is let my own triceps go flabby when they choose, embrace the duffel bags under my eyes and trudge down the path toward old age (G-d willing!) with my head held high.
Even if it does mean that I give in to the fact that, despite lunging my way to heaven, my
ass glutes are trying quite hard to make friends with my shoes.