Marilyn is a Fug’s Best Friend

I appreciate Christina’s sartorial departure from Hollywood Blvd. chic, but the retro-squeaky-clean approach has gotten a little out of hand:

With the golden-green sparkly sheen, it looks like she’s making herself into a doll. [Albeit perhaps a doll who'd been up all night nauseated by a hangover and is trying to cover it.] If she’d back off a bit from looking like a plastic Marilyn impersonator, she’d be in decent shape — if Madame Tussaud’s doesn’t think she’s a runaway waxwork and nail her down next to her fire-crotched alter-ego for an exhibit entitled, “From Fug To Femme: The Cleansing of Christina.”

I’m almost grateful for the flash of cleavage, because it proves she hasn’t completely abandoned her… abandon. But I feel like she’s a dye job away from reinventing herself on Broadway as Little Orphan Annie, and then what? She’s already bet her bottom dollar, and mark my words, there was no sun.