I very rarely give a fuck about what anyone writes about me. I mean I definitely do give a fuck, but I give a fuck here:
“Chrissy Teigan is married…and in being married has found a new low level strategy to get noticed…that involves showing her nippple..
She’s a little Pug-Faced, and not in a good way, because if you know anything about me or the site, I have a #stepPUG and I call myself a Pug Whisperer, but human pugs aren’t quite as cute…
She’s just not really hot at all, and sure she has tits and a body, and has been in SI, but I think it’s time for her to just get knocked up and live that gold digging wife life…
She bores me, even with all her twitter jokes….that suck…time to shut it down.”
Before I continue, this is NOT a woe-is-me post. I have such a wonderful, lucky life. I am blessed to have the best friends, and wonderful family and opportunities I could have never imagined. But I am also hopelessly insecure and nervous and anxious and self-concious. I have endless back and forth conversations with my own brain, where I answer my own questions and squash my own dreams. Things like this leave an emotional mark.
I read many blogs. Soooo many blogs. Too many blogs. I get snarky. I love snarky. I love funny. I love smart. I love when the author has a point of view I don’t agree with and yet still somehow “get” where they are coming from. Sometimes that will be about me, and I still, still understand and even get my eyes opened up to my own behavior. But this is my breaking point with this particular person – this sick man – that runs this site.
This (popular) site is so dirty, so malicious, so vile that it actually frightens me. This man, in person, would frighten me. He is one step away from talking about molesting a young hollywood starlet. And he gets away with it.
I would also like to note that this isn’t even close to his first disgusting post about me. The strangest, grossest thing is reading his first post – typical misogynistic shit I am quite used to, then seeing this weird escalation of hatred for me.
“Chrissy Teigan is some fat Sports Illustrated model who always talks about food as fat girls who don’t know they are fat do…she’s the kind of girl who as her belly hangs over her pants but talks to people about how she doesn’t have to work out cuz she’s naturally beautiful…even though she’s not..it is one of those positive reinforcement situations gone wrong…where it gives a girl an ego, that tricks the rich dudes around her enough to marry her, and get her booked doing Candy commercials, when really Candy is the last thing she should be eating, but can be eating cuz her professional gold digging has gone heavy equipment and is now gold mining…”
They get worse and worse, with this undertone of him feeling like we are close. Makes me want to back off the twitter.
“I just assume it’s like we’re an old married couple who have never met..I talk, she ignores…I masturbate to other girls…but still follow her shit…cuz I feel obligated…even if her jokes aren’t that funny…and her focus should be spent on getting naked….something she finally delivered on today…..cuz she posted a pic of her mixed race ass gold digging wannabe comedian ass getting a spray tan…and sharing said spray tan with her followers…cuz she’s open about her life like that…and because she more importantly….she loves any and all attention…that’s what happens to girls who only do SI…but never make the cover of SI….they work harder on building their own brand….which is made easier when financed by some dude she groupied right.”
I can’t even begin to think of where to start here. And enough with the “Just ignore it” thing. I cannot just absorb hurtful words into my brain and barf them up. This fucking piece of shit douchebag gets PAID to write vile things like this about absolutely everybody. I actually kind of get people shitting on me sometimes, but this guy does it to some of the most talented women in the world. Actually ALL of them. And he gets away with it. Because he is a blogger and nobody knows who the fuck he really is.
If you’re anything like me, words hurt. Period. People tell me all the time that I shouldn’t give a shit because I work / have money / have John. But the simple truth is that I, like many people, women especially, remember hurtful comments for a long, long time. Some things just last, even when you don’t want them to. I remember small mid-fight verbal jabs that were thrown at me many ex-boyfriends ago. Even the small ones (the jabs, not the ex wellllll actually yes both) I have read so many things throughout the years that I have developed complexes I would have NEVER had otherwise. And I hate it.
One thing I have been working on a lot in life is trying to give people the benefit of the doubt. If someone cuts in front of me, is snappy with me, or is just a general jerk, I try to think that maybe they have just had the most horrible day of their lives. It helps. Because sometimes I am having an utterly horrible day that I wouldn’t want anyone to encounter me on.
But this is different. This sucks. If John could tell you anything about me, it’s that I have this insane obsession with justice. Could I let shit like this slide? Absolutely. But sometimes people need to know when they’re wrong. Sometimes people need to know when they’re assholes. Sometimes people need to know that what they say hurts somebody.
I am not a fucking robot (which, as you know, I hate) I have approximately 1 billion insecurities. You don’t know that I have had my Britney head-shaving moments. You don’t know that I have seen windows before that I stared at for hours, wondering how long the fall was. You don’t know that I completely detest the taste of alcohol and drink it only for the feeling of not caring of your negativity or the pressure to be “on”. I worry about work, my age, my body, my future, my family. Every fucking day. Like anyone else.
This is not my life. I am not always like this, but sometimes I am, like we all are. We all wonder what the fuck we are doing with our lives, if people like us, if people respect us.
I don’t know when this happened, but somewhere between Al Gore inventing the internet and now, people have taken a lot more pride in being hurtful. I say a lot on twitter. A lot. And I completely deserve most of the shit I get back. But bloggers have this odd sense of soul-selling. They have an outreach of MILLIONS and yet choose to be horrible for the sake of page views or character-playing.
When I first met John, I remember a certain conversation we had. He said something about truly believing human beings were inherently good. And I disagreed. Please teach me to not disagree with this.
Anyhow. I really love you guys. I just had to write. It isn’t just about me – I am sad for everyone he writes about. I am sad this is his life and this is how he makes money. This person is truly sick. And I am not comfortable with people like this walking around this planet.
AND THIS IS NOT MEANT FOR COMPLIMENTS. Actually, don’t even leave comments. I just needed to vent.