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Let’s just lay it out, right here, right now: Jennifer Lopez has one sick body. SICK. She looks unbelievably unbelievable for forty-two years old, and she looks unbelievable for eighteen, twenty-six, and thirty-eight, too. Jennifer Lopez is timeless and her bodily execution year after year is positively flawless.
Now. With all that positive reinforcement out of the way: this outfit! Come on! What’s she trying to prove with this business? That her young little piece of ass boyfriend isn’t weird? Because he is. He’s Bee Dance Krumpin’ kind of weird, and no amount of gold lamé is going to distract us from Casper Smart’s lameness. Is she trying to tell us that she deserves a belated Academy Award for her performances in Gigli, The Wedding Planner, and/or Enough? Because that’s just not going to happen no matter how many times she dresses up as a little gold man.
No, Jennifer Lopez should probably fire her stylist. Or, if she’s not using one these days because she’s transcended fashion novice and headed into innovative ingenue, then she needs to get one (sweet-looking) big-assed reality check. PUN INTENDED.
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