Like, O. M. G. Hollywood’s favourite old maid may not be barren!
The rumour mill ̶ the same one behind such LOL-stories as ‘Lady Gaga’s a Hermaphrodite!’ and ‘Tom Cruise and John Travolta: Straight!’ ̶ is wheezing away on overdrive, diligently spreading the joyous word that Jennifer Aniston may have finally fulfilled her destiny as a woman by filling her womb with child.
Well, praise bloody be! It’s about time. Goodness knows her fallopian tubes must have spent the past 20 odd years weeping and jealously sniping at Friends co-stars Courtney Cox and Lisa Kudrow, who have both long-since accomplished their own womanly duty by reproducing. Really, it’s a wonder they didn’t give up hope long ago and wither away into gnarled stumps; the tick of her biological clock must be positively deafening.
As everyone knows, anyone who gets to this age (Jen’s a veritably over-the-hill and practically decrepit by Daily Mail standards, 43) and is still single and childless can not possibly be so by choice, but must either be hideously unattractive or a lesbian. I know my parents (I having early decried the idea of childbearing ̶ not on your nelly, folks, I like my pelvic floor!) have long since abandoned hope, labelled me a ‘career woman’ and are now just waiting to see which way I will go: abandoning make up and growing out my moustache or settling down with a ‘walking tour companion’? Hey, I’m a modern woman: I can do both. And I’m only 25 – plenty of time, or at least a good five years, for my head to be turned by some dashing gent and have this nonsense knocked out of me.
We have followed the ever-pitiable Jen’s plight with heavy heart after she was so ‘unceremoniously dumped’ by Brad (whose face/back of head we have only come to resent all the more now it’s plastered over every available flat surface as part of the Chanel campaign) for ‘man-eater’ (such is the lingo we must adopt when referring to such matters; we post-Leveson journalists had to sign something) Angelina, spending subsequent years moving from man to man, never able to hold one down for long yet, ironically, appearing in every rom-com ever to have been conceived by a weepy woman on a Ben & Jerry’s binge. Until now. Engaged and up the duff? It’s like all our Christmases come early. Hurrah! We can finally stop all this mournful head shaking, my neck was beginning to hurt anyway, and gleefully turn a keen eye to tampon-watch. For news has come that we now have incontrovertible evidence that suggests she might actually be pregnant, possibly: passing on sushi and alcohol ̶ the raison d’etre of any Hollywood actress ̶̶ at her recent engagement (!) party and clearing her work schedule over 2013. That can’t possibly be just because she’s concentrating on wedding planning! Still not 110% convinced? She’s also ditched her standard uniform of navy Gap tee and skinny jeans in favour of chunky clothes and oversized coats! Some may say this is due to fact that it’s winter and thus necessary (I myself don’t leave the house without raising nary a comparison to a yeti) but those people are clearly just bitter haters or militant feminists who are probably frigid (which is a shame, because a good rollicking in the sack would clearly be just the thing to sort them out).
All the more prophetic is that this possible news comes mere days away from that other really important birth we celebrate, namely Jesus’s. Coincidence? Or second coming? Hmm.
Good for you, Jen. Maybe now we can finally stop feeling sorry for you.
Image: Sarah Ferrari