Lena Dunham: why she's over talking about her body.
So hey, let's make it our headline! Open up now to read Lena talking about the talk about her body which she's totally talking about! Cos we love to talk about the talk Lena hates and even her attempts to not-talk the talk just creates more talk for the body-talk industry on which our magazine thrives.
I've often thought that Hollywood women (or at least what I would do in their shoes, in my elaborate fantasy world where I also sing blues classics with Elmo on Sesame Street and stalk Amy Poehler into becoming besties) should take some joint industrial action and just refuse to answer any questions about weight/diet/exercise in interviews. Plead the fifth. Starve the beast. Imagine the reams of crap that wouldn't get written. Imagine the reprieve for impressionable girl minds. But here Lena Dunham has tried to do just that and talk about, oh I don't know, being one of the youngest writer/directors and one of the few women with her own show, and instead her refusal to wax lyrical about her caloric intake becomes the cover story. So let's talk more about her thighs and we'll all be much happier.
(And yes, it hasn't escaped me that it's only the cover story cos that's what's most likely to convince women to pick it up from the newsstand. Cos we suck, ladies.)