My Miley Epiphany

I HAVE COME TO A REVELATION IN MY LIFE.

This is not just any revelation. This is not a "Oh, I prefer peanut butter cup ice cream to fudge ripple ice cream," kind of revelation. This is not a "Gee, I think I'm in love with Jimmy," kind of revelation. No, this is much more important, because it is a Miley Cyrus revelation.

Up until now, all I have known was that I disliked Miley Cyrus, but why? That, I couldn't explain. Oh, sure, I could provide weak replies when queried by fanatic eight-year-olds as to why I wasn't nuts for their favorite Disney star. The usual:

• Watching the acting in Hannah Montana is punishment.
  
• Her wig change is preposterous. Is anyone even fooled by this? It's worse than Superman's glasses. Seriously.
• Miley is not a name.
• Her music is mediocre. With the exception of Party in the USA, which she wasn't even supposed to sing originally. Nor did she understand it.
• Lately, not only is her music mediocre, but she's stopped wearing clothes and I'm pretty sure she's trying to be the underage Gaga. It has not improved her music. (Still, I can respect a naked girl, but...)
  
• Her father's chin triangle scares me. Granted, this isn't her fault, but she has the power to do something about it.

But it wasn't until yesterday that the real reason for my emnity hit me while scrolling through the profile pics on her Facebook page: her lips. MILEY CYRUS HAS DUCK LIPS.

Even without clothes on, the same pout is undeniable. As if she's trying to be sexy, and just looks like a mallard.


Once this occurred to me, I was greatly relieved. No longer will I stay awake at night, wondering just what it is about the teen pop star that disturbs me so. And now I can enjoy Party in the USA in peace. Because, let's face it, that song is catchy.