Yes, you know who I'm talking about don't you? I'm on a first name basis with these people. They are a part of my everyday life. I look to them to find out what will be "in" this spring. I
You may not be aware that there is an actual psychological illness called "Celebrity Worship Syndrome". It really does exist! It's defined as "an obsessive-addictive disorder in which a person becomes overly involved with the details of a celebrity's personal life" (Thank you Wikipedia!) So what on earth makes us so consumed with these people?
They are beautiful...duh! Celebrities always look fresh, wide-eyed and have remarkably smooth skin. They never look tired or old. This is called Photoshop, my friends! If you have ever seen the "before and after" Photoshop pictures, you know why they look flawless. Every wrinkle is magically erased. The zits and eye bags are zapped away. They whittle away their waists, thighs and upper arms. If only we could do this in real life, damn it!
It's Britney, bitch! Minus some pounds. Photo from The Chive
Every company on earth is sending these people hair and skin products in the hopes of them mentioning it and garnering a free celebrity endorsement. The top clothing and shoe designers are sending their fashions as well. When Britney wears Uggs new boots while being attacked by the paparazzi at Starbucks...BAM! A multi million dollar advertising campaign in the tabloids for the mere price of what it cost to make one pair of those big fuzzy boots.
Let's not forget how much money these people have too. They can hire nutritionists, trainers, hair stylists, makeup artists, and personal assistants to make sure they look their very best every time they step out of their Bentley.
The Great Escape... Yep. I'm going there. What better way to forget your troubles than by getting obsessed with someone elses? No woman can honestly say they have not done this at one time or another. Poor Angelina has all the kids while Brad's away. Lindsay is in jail...AGAIN! Their fuck ups and drama is a total distraction from everything going on in the real world. I've caught myself leading such a boring life at times that I call my friends to announce the latest celebrity break-up or pregnancy. How lame is that??
The drama entices... We are all waiting with baited breath for the next chapter in the saga. Each tabloid leaves you with a "to be continued..." type feeling. What will happen next? Whatever it is, it probably isn't even true. A celebrity publicist is always in the background making sure that a grand 'ol puppet show happens every chance they get. They make sure that the decisions their famous clients make get lots and lots of attention. I can just imagine them saying, "Take your engagement ring off and look like you have been crying" or "Walk down Rodeo Drive with another man while your husband is out of town". I think a lot of that shit is staged. And you know damn well that these "reality" shows are not real, they do retakes of a lot of the scenes because these dumb ass nobodies that became somebodies think they didn't reACT properly. You don't get a redo in real life, honey!
Sometimes I do feel sorry for famous people. I have a friend who made it into the "spotlight" so to speak. I was with her every step of the way and let me tell you, it was no walk in the park. Her 15 minutes felt like an eternity. Phone call after phone call for interviews. Always having to pretend like she was ridiculously happy. People watching what she was doing. Having to look flawless just in case she needed to be on camera. Offers for services, clothes, and other items for endorsement. So many choices that it would make your head spin! Waking up early and going all day to make sure to get all the events/appointments in. It was exhausting. It wasn't even for that long. I could not even IMAGINE living life at that pace every single day. No way. Living out of a suitcase in hotels and airplanes, no thank you. People fighting to get your picture and being recognized everywhere you go, screw that.
They can have their fortune and fame. I'll keep my yoga pants, zits, and thunder thighs. Now gimme that hot off the press Star magazine, bitch! And pass the bon bons.