MAIL BOX: Dear Lara Bingle

Dear Lara Bingle,

RE: That not-so-attractive and rather naked photo of you and the media fallout which has the all too familiar stench of a publicity stunt.

In the beginning, there was a part of me that sympathised with you. Being not nearly as attractive as yourself or having the kind of physical attributes that drive the boys wild, I find myself faced with your same dilemma on a regular basis. Not that I get caught out in my birthday suit, but that a hideous and embarrassing photo of myself becomes the property of the all-seeing, all judging public.

Afterall, when you're a member of the Facebook revolution, this is just something you have to come to accept, isn't it Lara? The fact that when other people take photos of you, they can then do with them what they like, including posting them on Facebook for all of the Facebook world to see. Too many times, Lara, too many times have I logged in to see some heinous, horrible photo of me looking like a haggered old woman or the twin of Susan Boyle. It's just not fair, is it?

And some what worse for you - getting caught without your kit on! How embarrassing. Good thing you look the way you do because if it had been me, I'm pretty sure all the tabloids would be questioning why they were running a picture of a giant frumpy albino Cabbage Patch doll.

Yes - I sympathised. I condolled. I felt your embarrassed shame. That is, until I heard the rumour that you sold your side of the story to Woman's Day for the tidy sum of $200,000.

Then I was not so sympathetic.

If this was true, as least you wouldn't be one of those WAGS who's riding on the cricket pads of her all-too-wealthy cricket playing husband. At least you'd be out there making you're own money. And it really makes me question my existance in the world when I think about how many cups of coffee I would have to serve in order to make $200,000 and how many hours your interview with Woman's Day would have gone for before you would have had enough money to buy yourself another Aston Martin.

Despite the designer perfume I'm pretty sure you're probably wearing and even despite the fact that you're brand new agent has denied it, I can't help but smell that all-too-familiar stench of a publicity stunt. It's hanging in the air like that faint whiff garbage juice gets when it's been sitting in the sun too long. Can you smell that? Perhaps we should call your new PR agent to see if he can smell it too?

Well, good on you, Lara, for standing up for women's rights and all that jazz. You're doing a fine job. Not too mention, earning a few extra dollars to put towards your big wedding celebration. When is that happening again?

Ciao for now. xo