I really enjoy your recipes, Giada De Laurentiis. I made your saltimbocca for New Year’s Eve, and your artichoke soup is a staple in my repertoire. But, if you don’t mind my asking, do you ever enjoy your own food? Sure, I see you taking a bite at the conclusion of each show, but honestly, I have my doubts that you dine that sumptuously every day.
The same goes for you, Padma Lakshmi. I’ll bet you never actually swallowed that repulsive-looking Carl’s Jr. burger you were chomping with such gusto in that commercial.
And let me not forget Debbi Fields, who for years made the most decadent treats on television yet never seemed to gain an ounce.
Now, ladies, I want you to know I don’t dislike you personally. And I don’t hate the thin (just slightly begrudge their genes). But I do despise what you represent: the celebrity chef who cooks heavenly food yet never seems to get to enjoy it. I despise your alleged effortless perfection, which presents you as the male ideal: the hot chick who cooks without getting fat.
You see, if you actually were eating all the food you cook, you likely wouldn’t look the way you do. You would be much more likely to look like Ina Garten or Paula Deen, who aren’t even that big anyway. Even Rachael Ray has been given lip for daring not to be a twig.
In the meantime, no one says anything to Mario Batali. Or to Emeril. Or even to Gordon Ramsay, who I theorize stays slim through sheer rage. Just wait, Jamie Oliver, until your metabolism slows down. That’s when things will get ugly! Ha, what am I saying? No one is going to care. Only our female chefs are forbidden from getting fat.