CONSUMING A 2010 EXPOSÈ ON TIGER WOODS' MANY MISTRESSES IS ANTI-CAPITALIST OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT

Weekly Recommendation:: The Temptation of Tiger Woods

WEEK 3

REQUIRED READING:

The Temptation of Tiger Woods by Mark Seal for Vanity Fair

The Suspect Wore Louboutins by Nancy Jo Sales for Vanity Fair

RECOMMENDED READING:

Leo, Prince of the City by Nancy Jo Sales for New York Magazine

Beneath my bed are tubs of wellness freebies I acquired while working down the hall from a women’s magazine. With every acquisition, I envisioned a new life for myself: days that began with a violent spritz of Hemp Beauty Pro CBD Wake Up Face Mist, ended with an Olly “Blackberry Zen” Sleep Gummy, and were occupied by staccato Gua Sha rolls along my T Zone. Exhausted by the idea of militant self-maintenance, I, inevitably, shoved my  propriety salves for period cramps and seaweed detox shampoo out of sight. Underneath my Tempur-Pedic topper: a pharmaceutical cornucopia gathers dust. 

Okay, unfortunately, I am rattling the discourse, shaking Gwenyth by her small shoulders and screaming, “what if wellness was disentangled from self-betterment and redefined as the single-minded pursuit of non-advantageous, private pleasure?” The only activities that make me feel ***cringe*** recharged are those wholly removed from self-improvement. And what could have less relevance? Less purpose? Less opportunity for personal development? Than salacious celebrity exposes from 2010? 

The greatest benefit you can wring from a 3-part spotlight on Tiger Woods’ many mistresses is that at the end of your scroll, you will emerge entirely unchanged: granite under a garden hose. So let’s burrow into stagnation and lay there belly-up for at least an hour.

Portrait of Mindy Lawton: lover of Tiger & server of Perkins’ Chocolate French Silk pie.