Life Lessons from America's Next Top Model
Yesterday afternoon at work my back totally locked up on me (again). It does this periodically. Unfortunately I don't have any good scripts on hand so I've spent the weekend laying on a heating pad and eating Advil Liqui-Gels like candy. How come I don't have any doctor friends that I can rely on to call in the Rx I need?
So all day I'm laying in bed watching the America's Next Top Model marathon on VH1. I've never seen this show before (I typically don't do reality TV) but I really like it! Not so much the reality-here's-a-bunch-of-20-year-old-skinny-bitches-living-together-and-fighting-like-cats-just-for-your-viewing-pleasure part of it, but all the actual modeling part. So cool. And I love love love Tyra's hair that color. It's so beautiful.
But these girls? The hell? How can someone trying to become a top fashion model not know the names Christian LaCroix? Or Karl Lagerfeld? Or Hermes? Worse, how can a group of girls this age not be able to read the words "magenta" or "technicolor"? They're just not smart. Not a one of them.
Tyra. Tyra's smart. I love that bitch.
OK, so here's the part that struck me: When these models would call home, every single one of them would cry to their mother/grandmother/ boyfriend/fiance, "I'm not like these other girls...I just don't fit in with them." Every last one of them talked (at some point) about how unattractive they feel compared to the other models.
I think there's probably a lesson here for us all.
