As reigning Queen of Horrid Reality TV, I found myself watching this vapid, soul-less show called Make Me a Supermodel yesterday while Ellipticizing. (Irony, hello.) During the casting call edition (I so love casting call editions, BTW – America’s Next Top Model, Real World, Flavor of Love – such an opportunity to escape, dream, relax and feel better about yourself, all at the same time!) Tyson McSwoony Beckford follows some modeling agent around as she asks the candidates to strip, whips about a black marker and then...you know it…circles and X’s the areas which need toning.
These models are, like, 6’ tall and whippet-thin, mind-you.
Only a few were spared and the guys got the marker business, too.
I thought this was just an urban sorority hazing myth but no, it happened right there on my 6 X 6 TV screen and I practically had to swallow an anti-anxiety drug for the models, I felt so awful.
Tell me, what would you do if someone approached your naked body with a marker?
-Shriek like a hyena and run away crying
-Slap them across the face like Zsa Zsa
-Grab the marker and draw LOSER across THEIR face
-Remain calm because, after all, you’re in a plastic surgeon’s office and you're paying for it
I’m off to a Heart Truth Go Red for Women event downtown – Quaker Oatmeal invited me! I don’t own red so I’m attempting to get away with a pink sweater. Wish me luck and I’ll report back soon!
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