Oh, gosh. It almost pains me to write this post.
When I was in college—and my friends can attest to this—I idolized Madonna. I dressed like her (which included wearing the lace see-through tops and black bras, black bangles up my arms, and leggings with black laced shoes), tried to dance like her, and just thought she was an all-around creative soul.
I felt a kinship with her for some reason; perhaps it’s because we also happen to share the same birthday.
However, last night, as I watched her accept her award at The Golden Globes, my stomach churned, and not in a good way.
I spent ten years teaching public speaking, and I must say, her speech was torturous to watch. She opened with three deliberate “ums” and then, reflecting upon the prior award recipient who happened to be French and struggled a little to get through his speech, said, “I’m not French. I have no excuse.”
She then proceeded to talk about herself and her “film.” She seemed so disingenuous. She is obviously trying to reinvent herself again. Is her new desire to be the female Steven Spielberg?
Later when she took the stage, she was crass and harassed Ricky Gervais in a biting way that was not funny. (Remember, it’s his job to attempt to be biting and funny, not hers). She is apparently someone who needs to have the spotlight on her at every moment. She’ll draw any kind of attention to herself, even if it comes off as inappropriate and immature. Has she forgotten she’s no longer a twenty-five-year-old?
I’m so disappointed in her. When she walked to the podium, I told my children how much I loved her—how I emulated her and loved her gumption, her desire to succeed, and her need to indulge her creativity.
I don’t feel the same way I felt hours ago, nor will I ever feel the same way about her again. What I really want to do is force her to sit down and eat a very large, much needed slice of humble pie.