“I like to make my husband [Gavin Rossdale] like me more, and he likes it when I’m wearing makeup. … I already put my makeup on twice today: I put it on to take my kid to school, and then I went home, washed my face, and put it on again to have lunch with you.”
This would be Gwen Stefani, talking to interviewers in the latest issue of Harper’s Bazaar. And before this gets turned into what some perceive to be a man-hating, nazi-bitch rant, let me apply this disclaimer: this is not a man-hating, nazi-bitch rant, OK? It’s just not. Proceeding.
While I can appreciate Gwen Stefani‘s dedication to keeping the home fires lit via her personal, public, and professional appearance, I, personally, would not be giving a second thought to whether or not my husband “likes” me a certain way. I am who I am, and if I’m not appreciated for who I am (just the way I am), then the only thing that I can say is “F-ck you.” I do not care what you think of me, and I’m not going to go out of my way to make myself more appealing to you if you don’t think I’m appealing as I am. It’s like, if you wanna be my lover, you’ve got to get with every single one of my many imperfections all at once.
And in defense of the lovely Gwen, she’s more than welcome to do as she chooses, of course, and to do so without judgement. If making her man happy through frivolous means makes her happy and secure, then that’s fine. I’m in no place to judge her for what she does in her marriage, because if it works, and she’s OK with it, and it makes her totally happy, then so be it. That’s super. But there’s this part of me, this unquenchable, bitchy part of me, that wants to punch Gavin Rossdale in his stupid original-emo face for preferring his wife of so many years any one particular way or another. Because please. Please.
Maybe I’m ragging, and maybe it’s because I totally have PMS this week and have already eaten a half-bag of Ghirardelli Intense Dark chocolate (72%, of course), but guys. It is what it is.