Renee Zellweger’s plastic path to the mundane tract home.

Here I am, the consummate blogger, pontificating about the important issues of the day; those that affect each of us in astounding measures of gravity.

That’s what I do, and it is also why I am taking time and energy to write about a controversial schism that has apparently pierced the heart of the American public today.

It is this, of course.


Renee Zellweger, a woman whose movies I have not exerted effort to watch, nevertheless intrigued me for years. Her nuanced facial structure, while not classically molded, was still attractive to me. I found it aesthetically magnetic. I loved her look. It was unmistakable. It had character, to borrow a tired, soothing refrain. Those draping, concealing eyelids shadowing sweet sparkling blue eyes, the vulnerability of her narrow lips, the girlish jut of her pleasant chin…she was such a cutie. The sweetest girl next door, but in a manner which screamed, “I’m taking a different path into your heart!”

I’m speaking of the Renee on the left, of course.

It seems the Zellweger of old has metamorphosed over the past several years into this odd cookie-cutter Stepford creature that bears no resemblance to the charming girl I once adored. Photographs reveal that Zellweger has apparently parted with precious money (this is unsubstantiated…she has never admitted to plastic surgery, nor have any acquaintances stated such with confidence) in order to look like every other blonde, over-tanned and over-luxuriated Valley or OC housewife in SoCal.

She has gone from cutely unusual and visually provoking to a white bread ho-hum one-size-fits-all shade of Anglo.

Zellweger’s evolution is emblematic of our culture of conformity and collective lack of originality. A world in which beauty is defined anyway you want so long as it’s marketable and familiar and boring. Soulless.

And as all piercing glimpses into society must, this Zellwegerian ascendance to Valley Housewife was greeted on Facebook with a chorus of expressions of shock and bemusement.

To which, I responded:

She traded in an old Victorian for a tract home.