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Looking back, I never really had a shot at being pious. With a lapsed Catholic for a mother and a secular Jew for a step-father, I was a spiritual orphan, destined to stumble through the year-end holidays with no real sense of history.
Idon’t crave a mascara that lengthens as it thickens as it curls. I don’t require a lipstick that renews as it stains as it plumps. I don’t even need a hairspray that protects as it freezes as it boosts. I just want to be pretty. Is that so much to ask?
It’s bad enough I have to read about Britney Spears’s parenting failures in my entertainment magazines. I can’t get through an issue anymore without facing a photo of the former teen queen’s by-now-all-too-familiar upper thighs. Now-thanks very much-I have to smell her, too.