Oh, Gwyneth, we have to have a chat about your fancy lifestyle website, Goop, because, if I may be frank, I’m a bit concerned that you are overselling the importance of things like juice cleanses, detoxing your body, and well, $700 juicers.
Your website has become the ultimate example of pretentious privilege. You’ve really gone and jumped the shark.
You and your staff have spent the last few years telling us that we need $5,000 dildos and porcelain eggs to shove inside our vaginas to maintain our sexual health and well-being. You have reminded us that we need to drink smoothies with ingredients like ashwagandha and cordyceps (actually, I need to thank you, because until you told me, I thought a “cordyceps” was a muscle in my arm, so fist bump, GP) that each cost more than a car payment. You take credit for making yoga popular. And you even told me that you’d rather die than survive living like a commoner on a mere $29 a day.
You and your fancy website are just too presh for words these days. Truly.
And despite your outrageous, over-the-top selections for your gift guides and your seemingly made-up medical advice, people are coming to your website in droves because they trust your opinion. And I don’t think you are taking their needs seriously, G. People look up to you, and while I have to commend you for occasionally republishing articles from well-respected sites, the fact is, you are influencing millions of people every day with your ideas. I don’t need to tell you what kind of responsibility that carries, now do I?
And you see, I just found out I’m sick, Gwyn, and I’m pretty worried about my health. I’m suffering from a disease that’s on the rise, and frankly, the side effects are terrifying.
I have Goop-Itis, Gwynnie, and according to doctors with actual medical degrees, it’s serious AF.
Do you know how many times I’ve had to run to my doctor because I’m convinced my vagina isn’t getting enough steam? My doctor practically laughed me out of the office when I told him that you said my underwire bra might cause me to have breast cancer and that tampons are toxic to my under-steamed vagina. And when I told my doctor who went to a real medical school that an “expert” on your site says that he can “scan the body from afar” and tell that my thyroid might not be working because of the Epstein-Barr virus, he looked at me and asked me if I wanted to buy the Brooklyn Bridge too. And then he laughed forever.
My doctor told me that the only known cure for Goop-Itis is to stop buying into the bullshit “expert advice” you are touting, along with your astronomically expensive lifestyle brand. And when I say “lifestyle brand,” I mean “a wellness website that is basically like The Onion run by a woman who is no longer of this planet.” Harsh words, I know, but I like to be honest with my friends.
Don’t be sore, Gwynnie. I’m sure your intentions were in the right place when you decided to design a line of vitamins with “the best doctors and experts in the field for advice and solutions.” I’m sure you believe your “vitamins” really do “deliver health-defining vitamin and supplement regimens that address the acute needs of modern women.” And I know you didn’t mean to hurt my feelings when you priced your vitamin regimens at $75 a month. I’ll stick with my One A Day from CVS, if it’s all the same to you.
Let’s cut the bullshit, please.
Friends don’t let friends make shit up and then tell millions of people that vitamins named “Why Am I So Effing Tired” and “High School Genes” are going to solve all of their wellness concerns. And while I’m on the topic, can we please discuss why you seem to have more toxins in your life than the rest of us? Your need to cleanse toxins from every aspect of your life is a tad concerning, if I’m being forthright. Friend, I don’t mean to be rude, but maybe all those organic cleaning products you told me about might not actually be killing any germs. Is that possible? Maybe?
And I know you are probably super-disappointed I haven’t attended one of your In Goop Health events. But I have to be honest: Attending a session where I’d have my aura photographed by an individual named “Radiant Human” seems, well, and I say this with love and light, a fucking stupid and wasteful use of my hard-earned money.
Oh, and hey, it was a cool idea to offer your attendees an IV infusion breakout session because maybe they’ll “have spent Friday night hitting the bottle a little too hard, or maybe you’ll just be looking for an energy boost — either way, we’ll get you hydrated.” I know that I would have needed an immense amount of alcohol in order to handle seeing Nicole Richie dole out medical advice, so high-five on that innovative (and absolutely ridiculous) session.
I hope you understand that I have to focus on my health and have to rely on professionals with years of actual medical training in order to get over my case of Goop-Itis. It’s going to be a long road to recovery, and I’m sad that my $700 juicer isn’t going to produce a magical cure. Dammit.
You do you, Gwynnie (that’s what everyone likes to say now, when they think someone is totally missing the mark), and I’ll just be over here rolling my eyes for infinity.
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