Please tell me first that we can acknowledge that all babies are not, by virtue, CUTE. If we can agree on this, we can all move forward together. We're walking, we're walking . . .
And so it is with Suri Cruise.
Please tell me you saw that Vanity Fair cover up close. I know that I'll be attacked for this, but I am quite sure that in '73 Willard Scott owned and wore with pride that baby's toupee while reporting on Tropical Storm Gilda. Seriously. This cover does not introduce a baby worthy of an Oprah couch jump
Which is sad. Because both parents are gorgeous, one a little less so because of his ridiculous obsession with, well, himself, and the other a little more so due to her total disregard for paparazzi when she has, say, four to 12 cold sores. That bold move alone would get you invited to any of my happy hours, Ms. Kate.
So that was my initial, Wednesday-morning verdict. Let's move to the afternoon.
Enter my friends who clearly menstruated at age 6, who can't fathom that I would not find a creature of the womb to be Godlike, who might even find Ethan Hawke to be aesthetically acceptable.
"You are a loser." Ok, I can take it.
"Your cats are ugly!" THEY. SO. ARE NOT!
"You wouldn't know a cute baby if it knocked you in the chin!" That one hurt.
So I did a little research and found one of the mag's internal pictures of little
Sorry Suri, and she was actually quite beautiful. Striking blue eyes, the cuddly pudge we all try so hard to lose the minute we recognize it, unblemished eggshell skin.
It was a breathtaking photo of mother and child that made me want to share my life with a small, dependent, vomitous, blue-eyed human being.
But come to think of it, I haven't been drop dead in every one of my snapshots.
Hmmm. Maybe I should be more accepting.