Weep, my friends, WEEP for the sad state of affairs that have become the way of life for aging supermodel Paulina Porizkova! No longer hot enough to spontaneously combust, she must bear the leaden weight of shame for being eliminated from “Dancing With The Stars” and the unbearable humiliation of not being recognized by the FedEx guy. O tempora! O mores!
Worst of all, she must drag around her formerly unspeakably hot-hot-OMFGHOTTT!!!1!!eleven self from one lame celebrity event to another, feeding off the crumbs of attention left over after the paparazzi feeding frenzies over such luscious younger women as Kim Kardashian and that big-titted red-head from “Mad Men”.
And this….THIS…my friends is the hideous, wizened visage she must face every single day in her cracked and formerly enchanted magic mirror:
(that tiny little screeching noise you hear is the smallest violin in the universe playing a lament for her)
I couldn’t tell from her column whether she might possibly be poking fun at herself … or maybe I was just hoping.
It’s as if she realizes just how ridiculous it all is but can’t quite manage to separate herself from it. In the end, I felt, she succumbed to the “But I’m a celebrity!” impulse.
If she was wearing a swan she’d look a little like Björk.