Lana Del Rey Got Fat & My Life Got Better
For reasons unbeknownst to me, the world was taken aback when one of its most beautiful women, 10 years into her mind blowingly illustrious career, put on a couple old fashioned LBs. Hot off the trail of releasing TWO of the year’s best albums, she was ridiculed by a swarm of her gay fans after being photographed walking out of a building. (I’m sure the straights had comments too- but I thought I’d just get at the majority of her audience. Efficiency is always my priority)
Early in Lana’s career she became an icon by playing an ultra glamorous old Hollywood vixen, adopting the aesthetics of icons like Marilyn and Priscilla Presley. It was then as if she telepathically passed this trend right into our young permeable minds with the hand of god. just listen to one song off Born To Die, it’ll save us some time here.
As she and her art mature together, Lana slowly shed her celluloid skin and showed us a more vulnerable, real artist behind the surreal pin up fantasy. And I find it amusing, hilarious, funny, comical, and at some times- even laughable, that individuals couldn’t manifest a critical thought on a very complex woman. Shockingly, she did not hatch from Hollywoods grotesque sadistic photocopy womb exactly as she appears here circa 2011:
She is smart. To create a record such as “Norman Fucking Rockwell”, I presume her IQ towers over bill gates or whatever nerd I’m thinking of. She created Lana Del Rey. And she controls Lana Del Rey. And I say with certainty that at every BMI known to man, she could lead her generation of followers, her loyal congregation- into her own unique poetic universe. And as she reinvents herself each album, we follow. Time and time again she mothers us like a litter of puppies whose real mother died in a catastrophic disaster, while taking over our Spotify wrapped and our entire psyche.
Circling back to my goddamn point, I am thrilled. With a fan base raised on pro-Ana Tumblr, Lana’s power is stronger than our deeply instilled fear of weight gain. Her force outweighed (lol, I mean- outshined) fatphobia in totality
. She still looked amazing in the photos, but that doesn’t even matter. She wore croc flip flops to her best friend’s wedding and I audibly said, “Slay.” And I’m a mean person. There is hate in my heart! But not about a dress size. God, that sounds sappy. I’m not hopeful for our collective views on women’s bodies. In fact, I think she already made her Ozempic premiere at Coachella. Whatever. The story here is, being fierce, the property of ferocity, cannot be created or destroyed. And Lana is so deeply fierce. Fierce cannot die at the Waffle House.
I will add, If, at the age of 37, I am expected by to look identical to when I sang about being a “Lolita” in my early 20s. I’d arrange my own beheading in the town’s square. But our strong Cult Leader wears, sings, and acts, however Lana wants. Fierce
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