My Reason For Disliking Miley Cyrus' Behavior Might Surprise You

Everybody's talking about her. Who? The tongue-wagging, twerking, titillating (yeah, pun absolutely intended) Miley Cyrus. Everyone has an opinion an I am no exception. I just feel the need to explain mine so that you understand where it comes from. In this understanding, you will know me and be able to relate to me better as a person, like it or not.

 

I judged her harshly while others in social media defended her and lifted up praises to her holy name, screaming, "She is woman, let her roar!"

 

My reaction (screamed aloud at the television) was more along the lines of, "Holy... what the hell? Miley, you slut!"

 

We don't always watch the Video Music Awards at our house, but decided to catch it this year. When my twelve and fifteen year old girls told me excitedly, "Mom, Miley Cyrus is on," I was anxious to see her. I was anxious, that is, until the minute she stuck her tongue out, which I think was about two seconds into her arrival on stage.

 

 

 

We all know what happened after that. More tongue, more twerk, more Uhh - Mah - Gawd!

 

Yes, Miley, I see your tongue. Now, put it back where it belongs, young lady! I hate it when little kids try to lick me and now I'm terrified of ever meeting you in person. You say you stick your tongue out all the time because you don't like to smile? What are you, four years old?

 

Yes, Miley, I see you pointing at your va-jay-jay. I know you're a big girl and we don't have to spell the word s-e-x around you anymore. I get it. You're not a virgin and you want the world to rally around your public pubic point-a-thon.

 

Yes, Miley, I see you simulating a sexual position with that poor little Thicke boy. You have now somehow ruined the image I have of his father and the fond memories I have of watching him on TV when I was young. I'm not even sure how you did that to me, but you somehow put ick all over anything Thicke. Shudder!

 

Yes, Miley, I saw your new video for Wrecking Ball and no, it does not remind me in the least of the Sinead O'Connor Nothing Compares 2U video. As I recall, she didn't seductively lick a thing, much less a sledgehammer, in order to get me to like her. Phallic symbolism, anyone? Cough, cough. Ahem. Furthermore, Sinead did not get nekkid and straddle a giant metal ball (poor set cleaning lady, ewww) on a chain in order to show me her vulnerabilities.

 

Sinead's was art. Yours was tart.

 

Okay, so there was my opinion. Now the surprising part.

 

I really like Miley Cyrus and I still consider myself a fan of her work. I think she is extremely talented. I love her music and her acting ability. I love the ever-so-rebelliousness of her lyrics doing what they want to whomever they want, whenever they want. You're right, Miley. It's your mouth, your house, your life party and you CAN do what you want with it and it's okay.

 

So why am I coming off like a hater? Let's look at some options:

  1. I'm a religious nut, judging Miley unfairly. Nope!

  2. I'm afraid she'll influence my teen and tween age girls. Negative!

  3. I'm jealous because she's got better boobs than me. No way! I've got curves, girls...

  4. I'm a goody-two-shoes and have never seen such atrocities... my eyes, my eyes! Wrong again.

The truth is, I don't like Miley's behavior because she reminds me of... well... a younger version of me.

 

Miley is... my mini-me!

 

I should clarify that I don't behave that way anymore. But oh my sweet baby Jesus, she reminds me of exactly where I was so many years ago. I was no better. I acted sleazy, rebellious, filthy; and I was proud of myself.

 

I cursed like a sailor. I showed too many strangers my body parts. I tried to be seductive, thinking it would gain respect and make me feel... loved. I was pathetic, lost, broken.

 

And I had no idea.

 

Video footage of my ultimate immature period of life would put Miley's to shame. My hope is that all persons possessing such video footage have passed on or become morally accountable to a higher power and have burned the evidence. There were no teddy bears involved, but there were definitely beer bongs and fellow girls gone wild in attendance. And I... wanted to be their queen.

 

Now, so many years later and after tons of soul-crushing therapy, I know that deep hurts caused my behavior. These were painful events so deep that I couldn't even understand their depth or form them into intelligent thought patterns.

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