Yesterday, shrugging-and-blinking actress Anne Hathaway posted a picture of herself in a bikini with her pregnant belly showing. From the state-fair-beauty-queen pose to the big dumb waves crashing in the background, this photo of Anne Hathaway’s “baby bump” makes me as upset as a starving little French person in 1815.
I really hate pregnant bellies. I know this is unpopular and it’s not a pregnant woman’s fault that her belly button looks like a disgusting, stretched out shrapnel scar in the middle of her nauseatingly firm sack of fluid and alien body parts, but I can’t help it. Seeing a pregnant belly makes me feel like tragic, pale Cosette, barefoot and dragging my rags around the streets of Montfermeil. This is literally how I feel.
Why does Anne Hathaway have to stand like such an asshole in this picture? Up on her stupid toes and her knee all bent like a mudflap girl? Why is she presenting her mound packed with extra veins and blood like it’s a beautiful meal anyone wants to eat?? Why is Jean Valjean thrown in prison for stealing a loaf of bread to feed a starving child??? I don’t know the answers to either of these questions but I know one could fill two acts and 50 musical numbers trying at very least to understand them.
Oh you’re at the beach in December, Anne Hathaway? Good for you. You’re a real master of the house. Keeper of the zoo. Dabby-dabby-dabby-dabby do-do-do.
Also, this is not brave. Instagramming a filtered picture of your pregnant belly has now been done approximately 4,000 times. A celebrity showing us her pregnant belly is about as surprising as the refrain in “One Day More.” By the time they’ve sung it for the millionth time, it makes you as nauseous as an abused factory worker.
Yeah, I intentionally didn’t mention Fantine.