In Which I Admit To All Of My Women Friends How "Anti-Woman" I Really Am

By admitting, no, I take that back, CELEBRATING the fact that I hate Oprah. Have for years. Her book club of mediocre fiction, occasionally sprinkled with a less-worthy later work from a legendary writer (i.e. Toni Morrision), her damn magazine, her saccharine empathy, all of it. She makes me keep my television turned off in the afternoon for fear I'll actually catch her show. The last time I watched, under duress mind you, was when Ellen DeGeneres was on, talking about playing second fiddle on her cover this past holiday season. The best part about that show was the segment on Ellen and Portia's wedding, but I'm going to praise any accepting, positive depiction of gay marriage on television, and not simply because Oprah told me it was ok. I hate Oprah.

And, apparently, this columnist does as well.

I read each of Jennifer's with a "yes, yes, RESOUNDING YES," falling from my lips as I went through each point. The fat hater comment was particularly interesting. Combined with her perpetual non-relationship with Steadman, and her sucking up to celebrities, it's clear that Oprah really does hate herself, on a deep level, and the show and the magazine and the cult of personality is just her way of not dealing with self-loathing.

There. I said it. You can start the anti-woman chanting now. I can take it. As I am not anti-woman, nor do I hate myself. And neither you or Oprah can convince me otherwise. :)