Oh, Honey……No…….

Dear Alicia,
We all loved you when you were completely Clueless.  The girls of our generation, not-so-secretly, wanted to be you….or Cher….because to us you were Cher.  You were the perfect 90s girl we all wished we could at least know once in our lives……sigh…..

You became a vegan, and I still liked you.  You posed nude for PETA, and while I’m not a fan of their work, I respected your ability to stay true to what you believe in.  That’s hard to do.

You named your sweet baby boy Bear Blue, and I began to worry a bit about your sanity.  Had all those years of no animal products done something to you?  Were you losing it a bit?  Because, honey, “Bear Blue” is cute for a tiny baby in his footy jammies, but a pimply 13 year old?  You might as well have stopped by the tattoo parlor on your way home from the…..wait…you had him at home? …ummmm…..you might as well have called the tattoo guy in and had “Kick my A**” scrawled across his forehead.  It would have saved everyone a little time.

Then this morning I turned on the news and you were on there.  Honey?  Ummmm……you were chewing up food and letting your little Bear Blue eat it right out of your mouth.  Kinda like a bird, except I don’t know if they have saliva and you do. It is, in a word, revolting.  (Don’t believe me?  You can watch it here.  It really is disgusting.)  As if the kids name weren’t bad enough, you have the poor guy eating his mom’s spit and …..it looks like he’s kinda Frenching you there, to be honest… And if that weren’t humiliating enough, you made a movie of it.  And posted it on the internet.  On.the.internet.  Where things never go away.  Ever.

Can you just picture it?  In about 12 years?  Jr High is brutal enough without a whacked out name and eating your mom’s puke, because that’s how the kids are going to see it.  (I took an informal poll of my own children.  That’s how they see it.  The looks on their faces should have you worried.)  It should.  It’s a cruel, cruel world out there, and maybe you shouldn’t be trying so hard to get him beat up.

I’m just a little worried about you.  You seem like a nice girl.  You even named your diet the Kind Diet (although “Kind” is a kind of pot, the good kind, and that might explain a lot.) Which is why I’m puzzled not by the fact that you’ve lost touch with what the rest of the world considers to be normal, but that you think it’s so not a big deal that you’re posting it for everyone to see.  I think you’re suffering from lack of protein.  I’ve read your book and you’re heavy on the wacky macrobiotic I’m-not-sure-that’s-really-food and a little light on the real food.  May I make a simple suggestion?  A steak now and then wouldn’t kill you.  I promise that it won’t.

Come on over and I’ll throw one on the grill for you.  We can watch Clueless and revisit the days when your life made sense, before you were upchucking for your baby.

Color me confused,
Rebecca