Starlet

Today in the metro tunnel, I saw a poster advertising some new movie, with the star in a comic-alluring pose. Fabulous smile. She was pretty, really beautiful. I can see why people like to just--look at her. Why not construct a movie around her, looking adorable--find excuses to dress her up in sexy or charming or goofy getups. People will pay just for that, men and women. Why not? It's not such a bad thing.

But some people take it a bit far. They worship her. They want to be her. There are people who will devote their lives to being an imitation of a person they've never met. They don't really know anything about her personally, as much as they buy the magazines that say "Star Tells All!" or "Learn the Real Story Behind the Fame!"

Others get offended at the sight of her. This face, belonging to someone they'll never know, showing up everywhere, on the way to work, at home, in the doctor's office. She's insipid, she's soulless, she's evil. Nobody really has teeth that white, legs that smooth, breasts that firm. They want to smash this face whenever they see it.

Hey, she's just an actress. People pay her money because she's pretty to look at, because she can play a role more or less convincingly, because some of us for a minute can fantasize about another life. And then we get on the train and off to work, home, class...and forget all about her. Poof--the fantasy is gone, and we live in ourselves again.