There was a big hullabaloo this week over pictures of once-chiseled Gerard Butler gone to (minimal) flesh. Yesterday, photos of Rachel Zoe's ribcage caused a similar reaction, but for the opposite reason. This poses a dilemma for us slaves to celebrity culture. Which is worse: excess skin or excess thin?
The "uproar" over Butler's flab pleased some observers who thought it brought gender equality to Hollywood's timeless tradition of fatty bashing. Of course, the rising Scottish star kind of set himself up for failure after his CGI-enhanced pecs made the Spartan-Persian bloodbath movie 300 a global blockbuster. And Zoe, well, the celebrity stylist (and rumored horse tranquilizer-enthusiast) has always seemed to model her body after the narrow clothing hangers that display her flood-prone studio's couture frocks. But we think we could help Zoe find a solution to the mysterious dizzy spells chronicled on her show by suggesting she eat a sandwich (or at least those crabcakes from The Ivy that the beautiful people can never stop talking about).
Anyway, this body image schizophrenia has inspired me to continue my '09 balancing act: gut-busting meatball parms from Parisi combated with a slimming half pack a day's (exaggeration!) worth of Camel Lights.