I have some serious writing coming out in a few days which I’ll re-post, so please stick with me. But in the meantime, I didn’t want you to think that my aforementioned snake phobia would in any way prevent me from sharing the spectacular hot mess that is Jessica Simpson, in baby-blue SNAKE SKIN PRAIRIE DRESS, at her recent baby shower. I love this gal. I don’t even understand why she’s famous (that kind of question really dates me, doesn’t it?) but I just love her.
I love that she is so beautiful and so floridly ripe and out of control, like she’s going to mow down people in wheelchairs to yank a box of Leprechaun-sprinkled-Boston-Creme pie donuts right out of your hands. It’s just so gratifying to see a celebrity — okay, not exactly a first-rank celebrity but nonetheless… It’s exciting to see a famous (for something) person who isn’t doing the Master Cleanse and charity half-marathons in her 39th week.
Nope, she’s eating onion rings on Ellen and buying ugly snake dresses! I love it. Reminds me of my own barefoot-and-benighted epoch of six plus years – minus the Louboutin heels – when I would I look forward to OB appointments at Northwestern Hospital for the opportunity to take a refreshing nap on an exam table, swollen feet in metal stirrups, and afterwards hit Burger King and the Michigan Ave ‘world cuisine’ food court in one quick pass before racing home to pay the babysitter. The food court had a handy swipe card system, so you could graze at multiple stations without raising security concerns. I’d usually get a quarter-pounder with cheese followed by a chaser of southern brisket or pork ribs with a side of key lime cheesecake and mac and cheese. I remember those days, inaccurately, with great fondness.
I’ve never been too sentimental about the baby production biz. One of my favorite Onion headlines pokes fun at the “miracle” of birth. And I could be a complete kill-joy, as I have been repeatedly in other posts, and veer off into the disappointment, misery, and dangers that plague millions of women of childbearing age. But let’s at least agree that it might be time to retire the phrase, ‘We’re pregnant.” Personally, I stand in awe of all those lovely women I see going about their regular lives while creating new ones. Mazel Tov! Have another donut on me, Jess!
