What’s happened to you, Sasha Fierce?
You are the last person on earth I’d take for a chump, and here you are, 6 months after those cheating divorce rumors, still married to Jay Z. What gives?
All The Single Ladies? Irreplaceable? Independent Women?
Have you forgotten: “Try to control me and you’ll get dismissed/Always 50-50 in relationships”? or “To the left, to the left, everything you own in the box to the left”?
Okay, I know you’re not your song lyrics, but Beyonce, independent-doesn’t-take-shit is your BRAND. Have you forsaken your badass self? Where did she go? She seems to have been replaced with a chump lamenting “Tired of the Lies.”
“You smile through the tears,” the song lyrics read. “In the mirror you would stare and say a prayer like, ‘I wish he said I’m beautiful.’”
“I wish it didn’t hurt at all,” the song continues. “I don’t know how I got here. I was once the one who had his heart. Until you had enough. Then you took that ring off …. So tired of the lies and trying and fighting and crying. You took that finger.”
Beyonce, please give your cheating husband the MIDDLE finger. Fuck him. You don’t need him to tell you you’re beautiful, you’ve got every sentient creature on the planet to tell you that. Have you LOOKED at yourself? If you were any more beautiful, you’d arise from sea foam on a Botticelli half shell. You don’t need this loser.
Frankly, I think your problem is you’re just a little too perfect. When you sung the National Anthem for those reporters and hit every note? Bravo. When you sang “At Last” for the President and First Lady? Swoon. So what, you need to be part of a “power couple” too? You need some celebrity thug and alleged baby daddy, who has admitted to shooting and stabbing people to complete you? You think you NEED that guy?
It’s a wonder Jay Z’s head doesn’t topple into the Hudson River and form a new land mass from sheer conceit. When Harry Belafonte criticized you both for having “turned [your] backs on social responsibility,” Jay Z responded:
“I’m offended by that because first of all, and this is going to sound arrogant, but my presence is charity. Just who I am. Just like Obama’s is. Obama provides hope.”
His very presence is charity?
Why not deposit him at the nearest Salvation Army and take the tax credit?
Beyonce, you are worth $450 million all by yourself. Time to stop fronting “perfection” with the raging narcissist. Go buy yourself some imperfection and humility. It’s okay.
Instead, you let your sister Solange eat the shit sandwich for you. After she clocked Jay Z in an elevator for cheating on you, it was spackle time with the press. “Oh, everything’s fine now.” Bullshit. At least your sister has the strength of character to get righteously pissed off on your behalf. Why don’t you take her lead?
Sniping at Jay Z at your concerts with thinly veiled song lyrics just looks passive aggressive.
Frankly, I think part of the problem is you’re getting the wrong advice. According to the Boston Herald, you’ve aligned yourself with none other than Gwyneth “consciously uncoupled” Paltrow.
Beyonce turned to none other than “conscious uncoupling” guru Gwyneth Paltrow, one of the few celeb guests at her 2008 wedding. Beyonce crashed at Paltrow’s L.A. mansion in early August.
“She’s a great friend on every level,” Beyonce gushed of her BFF last year. Her other trusted adviser, as always, is her mother, Tina Knowles. The House of Dereon matriarch had been urging her to reconcile with Jay Z, says a source, “but if the choice came down to splitting, she’d support her.”
Beyonce, your mother was an epic chump to your father’s philandering and drug use. Go explore the FOO issues. And Gwyneth Paltrow? She’s as flaky as gluten-free pie crust. The woman bragged to the masses about steaming her vagina.
“The real golden ticket here is the Mugwort V-Steam. You sit on what is essentially a mini-throne, and a combination of infrared and mugwort steam cleanses your uterus, et al.”
MUGWORT? You would take advice from this woman? Stop drinking the kale smoothies and walk away from this nutter.
Beyonce, I’m telling you chump-to-chump, mother-to-mother, curly-haired mess to curly-haired mess — you’re better than this.
Ask yourself — what would Sasha Fierce do?