Tuesday, January 15, 2008

I Apologize, In Advance

...but it looks like my new obsession is Liz Jones.

From Wikipedia:

Liz Jones is an English journalist and writer. She is currently the fashion editor for the Daily Mail. Previously to this she was the editor of British Marie Claire. She is a former anorexic [1] and suffers from obsessive-compulsive disorder[2].
She also writes a weekly column for the
Mail on Sunday called Liz Jones’s Diary in which she writes about her life with her (now ex) husband, the author Nirpal Singh Dhaliwal.

I am now finding myself Googling her, and feeling utterly compelled to read things like:


or better yet, a book she wrote, which is now as current and relevant as the Dead Sea Scrolls,

Part of me wants to give her a hug, and march her right over to a good therapist, to spend weeks, months...probably years learning to actually like herself.

The other, less altruistic, part of me is fully aghast that she is so prolific a writer, with such a vast audience, and probably legions of fans who hang on her every word. Fans who take her advice, and fiercly defend her when she rides her unicycle, while wearing exhorbitantly expensive silver leggings, right down the middle of Main Street in Crazy Town.

But then I look at this photo:

And I feel terrible, and want to hug her again. She actually looks like someone I would like, and having read snippets about her husband - who supposedly had like 7 affairs during the 4 years they were married, blah blah - and the anorexia, and OCD? Sad! She needs a hug!

I do have my limits, though, and do not have any desire to hug this:

At least, not until it puts a bra on.