An Open Letter to Farrah Abraham
Dear Farrah Abraham:
Guess what -- you've arrived. You're here! You're at the pinnacle of your career, and what that really means is that you're the epitome of everything that's wrong with the entertainment industry today. What's maybe worse, however, is that you've also alienated yourself from your roots, and that core group of "friends" on "Teen Mom" to the point that you've become a pariah in your own little niche. Are you satisfied yet? Is it everything you've dreamed and more?
Here's some advice, because you're only 22 years old, friend. You're 22. You've got time to turn this all around. Let's get into it, OK?
- Stop waxing your 4-year-old's eyebrows. Just stop. You're going to give her a body image and self esteem complex. The world has enough messed up young adults -- we don't need you intentionally poisoning an entire generation yourself, all right?
- Put some damn clothes on already. You're 22 and you've got a pretty decent body, and one of these days when you're 32 or 42 or even 52, you're going to look back and say, "Man, I looked good. I looked better than good. Any physical hangups I might have had at 22 are silly and pale in comparison to the perspective I have of being an older woman." But that doesn't mean we need to see your tits and your asscheeks in every single photo. You want to take those pictures for posterity? Go for it -- but we don't need to see every single outtake, girl. You're not doing yourself any favors in our eyes (and that is who you're aiming to please these days, right?).
- Educate yourself. Not knowing who Trayvon Martin was in this current cultural climate is nearly as appalling as someone who doesn't know about a little fight that's been raging in the Middle East or that, hey, too much sun can give you cancer. It's OK to exist in your own little bubble if that's where you're comfortable, but get a clue, girl. There's lots of them to be had if you look hard enough.
- Next time you go to rehab -- and statistically speaking, there probably will be a next time -- why not try sticking it out for the duration? See, entering rehab is a big girl decision, not too unlike deciding to have a child. They're both life-changing choices that can and will impact you for the rest of your life, and just as it is with child-rearing, what you put into rehab is what you'll get out. Who really knows whether you needed rehab or not, or if it was just another publicity stunt, but one thing it's not is a joke, OK?
- Examine yourself. And no, not by doing a solo porno a la Octomom, though that's probably been on the table for you for some time. No, that's not what's being said at all. "Examine yourself" in the way that it's going to produce some insight into what you've done, what you're doing, and where you're going from here. If you can look at yourself in the mirror -- and into the innocent baby face of your young daughter -- every night before bed and be truly, honestly OK with who you're becoming at this precarious point in time, then so be it. This guy, Socrates (you should, like, totally Google him sometime), once said something like this: "An unexamined life is a life not worth living."
the Whole Wide World Who Doesn't Hate You, But Kind of Feels Sad for You