Someone has told Gwyneth Paltrow a grave falsehood, you guys, because she suddenly seems to think she enjoys food. Honestly! As if she’s ever even tasted the stuff! I heard her talking about food in a new video clip trying to sell Hugo Boss perfume, and I honestly feel like I just walked in on her cheating on me. There she was, chatting about needing to go to the gym to ‘counterbalance’ the fact that she ‘really enjoy[s] food], as if we didn’t both swear to each other that we would never let anything delicious cross our lips ever again.
As if she didn’t just write a cookbook detailing how best to drain your bank account by eating only the most expensive, least fun vegetables with the least in common with actual sustenance. As if she doesn’t pride herself on giving her children hunger pangs. As if she didn’t just spend all this time encouraging me to mold my life after the basic model of ‘snobby raw vegan’.
What am I supposed to do with all those lessons, Gwyneth? Am I just supposed to neglect all my hard-won foraging skills until I become utterly incapable of tracking a rare chia seed through the forest via an animal spoor and then spending $70 on the rest of the meal to make that chia seed really shine? DON’T LEAVE ME HERE LIKE THIS.
Just look at her in this ‘perfectly put together’ moment, you guys, and despair. As if you could even BE perfectly put together if you’d consumed more than oxygen and celery sniffs that day. What happened to the Gwyneth we used to know?
I’m onto your tricks, Paltrow. You’re just trying to trick me into smelling a cup of coffee so I blow up like a fatty balloon and you can spread my gluten-free marrow onto your glowing, vegetable-based skin and live a foreverlife like Madonna.