I don’t know about this Lady Gaga character. Maybe it’s the first true sign of my real adult status (a status granted now that I am both a parent and a thirty-something, at least in my mind), but I don’t get her appeal at all. I know so many people — mostly teenagers — see her as an icon of individuality and creativity, but I just see her as a lot of flash and smoke. Everything she does seems to so blatantly be about getting attention. This latest round of Internet chatter — about her recent weight gain — is no different, but for some reason it has really got me up in arms. For those of you unfamiliar with the situation, let me catch you up: Recently, Lady Gaga posted untouched pictures of herself in her underwear online along with an admission that she has struggled with eating disorders all her life. She claims this soul-bearing is to stand up to those who have criticized her for gaining 25 pounds. She now appears to be using her confession to incite a self-love revolution amongst her fans (and, one would think, the world at large). Noble and un-celebrity like? Not quite.
See, if Gaga was overweight, this would be a bold move. And while the concert photos that incited all the criticism are certainly unflattering, the ones she posted in response simply show a thin girl in fancy underwear. She is so thin that I imagine if she weighed 25 pounds less she’d look like one of the chicks from Ally McBeal. But I’ve never seen a photo of her where she was that skeletal (and you can’t hide much in a meat dress). The whole thing just seems contrived and desperate, and terribly disingenuous.
Just days later Gaga is photographed walking around Paris in short shorts and a jean bra. Some role model; I’m not quite sure who she actually thinks she is relating to. And I think that is why she bothers me, and why so many of today’s “role models” for girls concern me. It’s like the only options the world gives our daughters is Kim Kardashian or Miley Cyrus. One’s posh and one’s pseudo-edgy, but they’re both half-naked most the time, super thin, and desperate for attention. The mom in me just wants to sit them down and give them a lecture on the difference between positive and negative attention, which are not created equal. I’m terrified that it will be an uphill battle to constantly remind Coraline that it’s what’s on the inside that counts. If that’s even true in our Gaga-obsessed world anymore.
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