David Spates "Therefore I Am" Published Aug. 24, 2004

"Stars With Cellulite" story scares me to death

How would you like it if your tush made national news? Myself, I'd be less than thrilled, but I don't think millions of people want to read about my bum. I don't want to read about your can, and you don't want to read about my can, so then why do we want to read about Salma Hayek's can? The answer is that my derriere and your derriere aren't famous enough. Americans are interested in reading about famous derrieres only. No-name rumps need not apply.

If you don't believe me, check out a recent edition of the National Enquirer. A front-page headline screams out "Stars With Cellulite," and there are pictures of famous women wearing bikinis. Printed over the women's pictures are arrows pointing to the gals' not-perfectly flat and toned bottoms and thighs.

I know what you're probably thinking. "Hey, it's the Enquirer, a supermarket tabloid rag no one takes seriously. Who cares?" The troubling thing is that people do care. The Enquirer sells millions of issues every week because people are drawn to this kind of stupidity. We can't get enough of it. We want to know everything and anything about the stars du jour. (Oh, I'm certain you don't read the Enquirer. I don't either, but someone makes up the sales figures, right?)

Two things about the "Stars With Cellulite" story bother me.

First, as an American sharing this country with nearly 300 million other Americans, we must have a measure of assurance that the people we come across during our daily adventures are not utter morons. An America filled with too many moronic citizens is a serious threat to our safety and well-being. Dimwitted people cause lots of problems.

I fear that some people who are interested in stars' fannies have important jobs in our community -- police officers, firefighters, lawmakers, Army generals, architects, judges. How could any of us have faith in the judicial system if we knew that a judge couldn't put down the "Stars With Cellulite" story? Judgment like that has no business presiding in a court of law. Would you feel safe driving over a bridge designed by an architect who was fascinated to read about Britney Spears' now-dimpled hindquarters? These are the kind of thoughts that ensure I'll always be a very defensive driver, because these people, in addition to being avid Enquirer readers, also have driver's licenses.

The second thing that bothers me about the "Stars With Cellulite" story is that I have a daughter. The next 15 years or so should be, well, I suppose "interesting" is a good word. She lives in a world where she'll be bombarded with conflicting messages about how she should look. Unless the trend of increasing youth obesity changes, she'll see other kids who are horribly overweight and sedentary, but at the same time she'll be badgered by advertisers who trot out perfectly fit and surgically perfected models wearing $360 sweaters who are portrayed as the "normal" teenager.

That's where we the parents come in to ensure that we give kids the truth about what is healthy or unhealthy, normal or problematic. Just as being 30 pounds overweight is unhealthy for a teenage girl, so is depriving basic nourishment just so she can squeeze herself into a pair of skintight low-ride jeans she saw Christina Aguilera wearing in a Teen People ad. I anticipate some delicate conversations with my daughter -- like I said, it should be an "interesting" 15 years.

Remember the good ol' days when supermarket tabloids carried fun headlines like "Elvis Spotted Changing Oil In Philadelphia Kwik-Lube" or "Man Gives Birth To Two-Headed Owl" or even "River Of Beer Discovered In Germany"? Those, my friends, were the salad days of stupidity, but at least we could all get a good laugh out of it.

Incidentally, that last headline about the beer river came from a recent Weekly World News, the benchmark publication for pull-your-leg journalism and Photoshopped pictures. Another recent fave I spotted at the checkout counter: "Al Qaeda Plans To Drop Gay Bombs," which went on to say that men caught within 30 miles of the blasts would instantly turn homosexual.

Now those are headlines that we as Americans can be proud of. I won't have any problem at all explaining those to my daughter.

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David Spates is a Knoxville resident and Crossville Chronicle contributor whose column is published each Tuesday. He can be reached at davespates@chartertn.net.