Granted, other writers on this blog have broken the Speidi ban in recent months. I have held fast to it. However, I am breaking it temporarily, because this shit is insane.
And I’m not even talking about the plastic surgery. Oddly enough, I’m like the one person on the planet who actually backs Heidi on this. It’s her body, and she’s an adult woman, and she has every right to do whatever the hell she wants to it. I don’t even think she looks all that bad. Let’s be honest here: it’s a giant improvement over how she looked a few years back, when she first hit the Hollywood scene as an average-looking LC sidekick. I’d want plastic surgery, too, if I had to be videotaped sitting next to Lauren Conrad’s naturally flawless face every single day. She looks a lot better now than she did back then. Granted, she looks like a completely different person, but it’s a prettier person now, at least on the outside.
What upsets me is Heidi’s complete and total delusion about who she is and the message she’s sending. She looks this television reporter straight in the face and says that the message she’s sending to young girls is that beauty is on the inside. The reporter, bless her heart, is all like, “Ummm, that’s completely and totally not the message you’re sending” and Heidi is all like, “Well, yes it is. That’s definitely the message that’s coming out of my mouth. It’s just not the message I’m conveying with my actions — no, not at all. But that’s okay because I’m famous and the young girls who look up to me aren’t. They should understand the difference. Teenage girls traditionally respond well to mixed messages.”
And then — AND THEN — the reporter asks her to sing. And Heidi gets frantic and is all like “Noooo I’m saving my music for my album.” And then the reporter — whom I now LOVE — is all like, “You don’t have to sing something from your album. Just sing anything.” And then Heidi is all like, “Uhhhh, my jaw hasn’t really healed yet.” And then I laugh until I die.
Oh and bee-tee-dubs, you guys, Heidi’s album sold less than 1000 copies in its first week. That’s, like, unfathomably bad. I think Ayla Brown’s album did better, even before her Playgirl father stole Kennedy’s Senate seat (but not before sending me a stern email for talking shit about his daughter).