Season 2 of HBO’sÂ Girls is coming out on January 13. So you know what that means. Weâ€™re going to hear a shit storm of hate about Lena Dunham. Ugh. Let me get out my umbrella and put on my wellies and face this thing head on.
Hating Lena Dunham is like being â€śnot a dessert person.â€ť Youâ€™re the one missing out. You’re making your own life worse and announcing loudly at farm-to-table restaurants around America that you’ll pass on the apple crisp. I don’t feel sorry for you at all if you’re passing on Lena Dunham like some would pass on apple crisp.
But let me take some of your arguments one by one and poke Lena-sized holes in them, just for the fun of it.
You hate her because of “nepotism.”
Before the show even premiered, there was a spoof poster identifying how each of the women in the show had some sort of Hollywood hookup that, as the poster implied, rendered them not deserving of being on television.
Mind you, I use the term â€śHollywood hookupâ€ť loosely. Allison Williams is the daughter of newscaster Brian Williams. Zosia Mamet is the daughter of playwright David Mamet. Jemima Kirke is the daughter of the drummer from rock band Bad Company. Not exactly a Whoâ€™s Who of people to blow to get something done around Hollywood.
And my favorite is the attack on Lena for being â€śArtist Laurie Simmons daughter.â€ť Call the church elders! This girl is skating by on the coattails ofâ€¦ wait, who? Laurie? How do even you pronounce that? Like the “lore” in “folklore” or is it more of a Deck The Halls’ “Fa-la-la-la-la” sound? My point is, if Artist Laurie Simmons sat on your lap and handed you her business card, you still wouldnâ€™t know who she was. So stop complaining about Lena being related to her.
Even if these girlsâ€™ quasi-Hollywood relationships did help them land the roles, all I can say is, GOOD FOR THEM!
Hereâ€™s a word of unsolicited advice. If you know someone who can maybe get your foot in the door when you have an amazing product and you donâ€™t take advantage of that, well, you made your own bed. You donâ€™t get life points for making things more difficult for yourself.
You hate her because of her body.
Oh my gosh. This one makes me so tired. You donâ€™t like Lena showing off her less-than-starving physique because it makes youâ€¦ what, have to encounter flesh for the first time? I doubt it. Weâ€™ve all ruined a bath or two by noticing what breaches the waterâ€™s surface first as the tub slowly drains, and it usually ainâ€™t our hipbones or bulging six packs.
I am not sorry if seeing a regular sized and shaped person makes you uncomfortable. Because that means you are not living in the real world. And what a great opportunity for you to realize that, tether yourself to something concrete on Godâ€™s green Earth, and start having some perspective!
You know the worst part about this argument? It’s boring. You sound like my mother telling me over and over again that I should separate my clothes by color and do three normal sized loads instead of one big load. It’s annoying and changes nothing. Iâ€™m still going to treat the washing machine as a metaphorical melting pot for my clothes of all colors. And Lena Dunham is going to continue to be naked on television looking like a real girl without you giving her the go-ahead.
So can we please just wear our slightly pink white Tâ€™s in our not perfect bodies in peace?
You hate her because sheâ€™s successful.
This is what it boils down to, right? You donâ€™t like that she has created something with a new voice, that is successful, that has balls, and you didnâ€™t. Well, Iâ€™m sorry. Maybe if you spent less time hating and more time creating, youâ€™d be happier with yourself.
Also, dibs on that saying I just made up. I see you making T-shirts that say â€śStop Hatinâ€™ Start Creatinâ€™ â€ť and Iâ€™m going to get all Drake on your ass.
In closing. I know I can’t make everyone love Lena Dunham or Girls any more than I can make that one friend relax already and order some dessert. And that’s fine. I won’t make you pay for my portion of the lemon meringue pie that is Girls when the check comes, if you don’t make me listen to your tired blabbering anymore.Â You sound like Marnie for Godsakes.
Nevermind. You wouldn’t get it.