So I pick up the Sunday paper, flip immediately to the Styles section, and discover that not only is being fat a sign of weakness, shame, stupidty, lack of moral fiber, etc.. Now, per The New York Times, it's a scandal.

That's right; a scandal. Right on par with having your perfunctory, cell-phone-interrupted sex splashed all over the internet! Or insider trading! Or posing nude for Penthouse! Or marrying Lenny Kravitz!

I don't even know where to start about "Triumph of the Bad Girls." First of all, I don't think "Angel Heart" derailed Lisa Bonet's career as much as the Cosby show going off the air did. (Is Tempestt Bledsoe working much these days?)

Posing for Penthouse didn't end up hurting Vanessa Williams in the long run: as far as I know, she's had the longest, most profitable career of any Miss America in the history of the organization.

And how does someone like Anita Hill or Hillary Clinton even fall into the same category as Paris Hilton?

You can certainly make the case that there are women who are surviving scandals more ably than their sisters in the past, although there are plenty of examples showing the double standard still firmly in place.

I don't think the world's ready to forgive Meg Ryan for ditching her husband for a fling with Russell Crowe, and I suspect that any comedic actress caught in a car with a transexual hooker would have a hard time finding the kind of kid-friendly work that Eddie Murphy's continued to land.

The supermarket rags have made a fortune advancing the notion that gaining weight is the moral, if not legal, equivalent of doing drugs, hiring a hooker, or using sweatshop workers to sew your clothes.

But just because the Globe and the Star have decreed that Kirstie Alley's a criminal in stretch pants, it doesn't mean the Times has to buy it, too.

Meanwhile, in the department of marital inequities, I had a bridal shower to attend yesterday, so Adam watched Lucy, and she napped from 1:45 until he woke her up at 4:30.

I had charge of the girl today so Adam could go to the Eagles game. You know how much of a nap I got? Twenty minutes in the car, on the way home from Chestnut Hill.

Grr.

Jen