Certainly, this is not as obnoxiously asinine as the blogger behind What Would Tyler Durden Do, but notice the subtle statement being made? She must not be making much of an effort. She must not care about her appearance. It doesn't matter that she's wearing a designer dress (although agreed, a hideous one. My prom dress was exactly that shade of shiny blue polyestered satin) and heels that alternately make me salivate and also wince in sympathetic pain. It doesn't matter that she came off of filming The Strangers that required so much physical activity that she lost ten pounds or that another annoying website recently reported that she was a size four. It doesn't matter that the majority of the poll respondents thought she looked hot rather than not (over 60 percemt as of post time). It just doesn't matter. She's not allowed to eat. She's not allowed to have imperfect muscle tone. She's not allowed to do anything but meet our approval and Elizabeth Snead still felt it was perfectly acceptable to make a bitchy little comment about Liv's stomach.
You know, I have a hunch that if given the option, more people than not would want to get busy with Liv Tyler than, say, Posh Spice. Myself included. Because this? That is pretty much the dictionary definition of hotness personified, right there.
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