Written by Heather Foley

As of late I am no stranger to scandal.  I’m not afraid to tackle a hard-hitting story, but I have a feeling that today’s blog is going to set the interwebs on fire.  I am about to declare something so shocking, so scandalous, so polarizing that I have no doubt it will alienate and infuriate most of my fans.  So what could I possibly say that would be so upsetting?  I love Gisele Bundchen.  I know this is a tough pill to swallow.  As a single mother I’m probably supposed to have some sort of moral obligation to team Bridget, but I can’t help it.  Bridget always struck me as a little beige whereas Gisele is a sparkly self-absorbed technicolor dream coat.  Gisele is the kind of gal that would tell you she loves your dress and then ask if they only carry it in plus sizes, or maybe would say how lucky you are that you can wear drugstore makeup, the cheap ingredients irritate her skin.

I can hear the chorus of  “Oh no you didn’t” rising up all throughout South Boston right now and let me assure you, yes, yes I did.  I admit, I am a fan.  Now I haven’t always been on team G, as a matter of fact just last week I commented on a friend’s Facebook status with the actual words, “I am by no means on team G”.  But homegirl has won me over.  I realize this seems odd; she’s had a rough week in the press for being an out of touch shrew.  So how did she recruit me?  Simple. Much like the honey badger, Gisele just don’t give a sh*t.

The most recent story in the news is Gisele snapping that her husband can’t throw and catch a football at the same time to some loudmouth Giants fans (and honestly she is not wrong – it’s physically impossible to do –   even teen wolf couldn’t self pass).  Now I know 99% of people are pissed that she A) engaged some idiot Giants fans and B) threw Tommy’s teammates under the bus, especially when he had a less than stellar game himself but guess what?  G don’t give a sh*t.

Last week the New Yorker somehow got their mitts on a private email from Gisele asking for prayers – not because someone was sick, or to end the plight of the poor, or even for world peace.  No, the millionaire supermodel wanted prayers for her handsome millionaire husband to win a football game.  Some of you probably think the good Lord has already bestowed a plethora of blessings on the Brady/Bundchen household, but Gisele don’t give a sh*t.

What else doesn’t Gisele give a sh*t about?  SPF.  Remember we she launched her own skincare line and announced SPF was poison?  Supermodel AND dermatologist, who knew? And Gisele doesn’t care what vagina a baby came out of.   If she wants to, she’ll say he’s hers (just ask Bridget).  Does she care if you actually have to work hard for a living?  Of course not!  Remember when a PETA protestor crashed the catwalk while Gisele was stomping and she spent the following week hitting the talk show circuit boasting about how well she’s able to do her job despite distractions?  Someone get this trick to teach a class to battlefield medics – she breezed past that hippie like they weren’t even there!  And this millionaire mom has no problem telling other moms “You’re doing it wrong”.  “You don’t breast feed?”  “You don’t feed your kids 100% organic?”  Heaven forbid you gain weight during your pregnancy?  Gisele has no problem pointing out your horrible shortcomings and why?  Everybody now – because Gisele don’t give a sh*t!

I believe in 6 degrees of separation.  I believe there is a legitimate chance that Gisele could read this, and if you are reading it, I swear I’m not being fresh.  I would love to meet for cocktails – granted they’ll probably have to be some sort of organic coconut water martinis, but it’s cool.  Also I’m 90% sure when I get up to go to the ladies room, you’ll cattily comment that my Jason Wu is from Target; my Versace is from H&M; and I let my son eat cinnamon buns.  How can I even look at myself in the mirror?  

And I love that about you Gisele, you might be my soul mate.