By ALISSA WARREN
Every piece of media commentary and societal peer pressure tells me that as an adult heterosexual woman, I should not be among Lara Bingle’s fan base.
There are many reasons for this, most notably that I don’t want to have sex with her but also that she doesn’t really…..stand for anything. She participates enthusiastically in her own objectification. She doesn’t really use her fame to help a cause or advance a message or even to have a point of view. She’s just……hot. That’s pretty much her sole reason for being. Well, at least her reason for being famous.
But here’s the thing: I love her. In fact, I love Lara Bingle a lot and I’m not sure if I love her in an ironic way or whether I just love her. She’s my guilty pleasure. Like eating Ben & Jerry’s straight out of the tub with a spoon even though I know I should be putting something more nutritious into my body. Like quinoa or kale. But goddamn that Choc Chip Cookie Dough is goooood.
So, tell me: should I be embarrassed by my love of Lara?
While you consider your response, let me count the ways in which she brings me joy:
1. Those boobs.
In the past 24 hours, I have gazed at a series of papparazzi shots taken of Lara at the beach in the nudie-patooty for an inordinate amount of time. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. The internet pretty much broke within seconds of their release yesterday. Hands behind her head, bosoms bouncing, nude on the towel.
I’ve never been one to marvel at breasts. I’m not a bloke, I’m not a lesbian. Personally, I’ve always thought the sexual appeal of breasts was a bit of a mystery.