“I got [my] book deal the same time Jim and I split after five years together. While researching and writing it, I looked inside of myself and began to see what was wrong with me instead of blaming him for everything … I was a girl who pretended. I would say I liked things when I didn’t. I knew if I wanted to grow, I needed to make myself happy before I could begin to have an equal relationship with another man.”
Remember those days in elementary and middle school, where you’d hang out with a group of really fab people and because they all liked strawberry Nerds, you did too, even though you secretly fucking hated them? Like, would gag as soon as the slimy sheen of color began to dissolve on your tongue? You’d hate like hell to say that you didn’t, for fear of seeming ‘uncool,’ so you’d tolerate the bitter film coating the back of your throat ’til you could get to the water fountain on the 2nd floor next to the janitor’s closet (the one least likely to be used by your friends since it’s next to — ugh — that creepy janitor’s ‘office’)? Yeah. That’s Jenny McCarthy. Only she’s not eight years old.
Grow up, Jenny. I’m glad that you feel that you can be yourself, but those close to you at any points in time probably feel pretty gypped that you didn’t love Clerks as much as they did. Poser.