I love Madonna. I have loved Madonna from the moment she burst onto the scene in fishnet stockings, too much hairspray, and a bad die job.
If my iPod playlist isn't enough proof, well frankly, I don't know what is.
So you can imagine how excited I was to see Madonna perform the halftime show at the Superbowl. In fact, I love Madonna so much, I went to her concert in Montreal a few years ago with my girlfriend and my barf bag.
I puked for nine whole stinkin' months throughout both my pregnancies, and I would throw up any time, any place. But when I heard Madonna was coming to Montreal, I just couldn't miss it. Not even if it meant dancing on my feet for three hours, 9 months pregnant, 40 pounds heavier, with my barf bag in my purse.
But, let's return to halftime at the Superbowl. I left my house at 5:30 last night for a "girls" dinner when too much testosterone walked through the door after hockey practice at 5p.m. There were big men and little men. It involved the Superbowl, Dominos Pizza, a lot of chicken wings, and a ton of junk. I decided to put on my "awesome" mom hat, and buy the kids junk galore for a change, since I'm usually the killjoy who puts out tangerines and vegetables.
Dad's Oatmeal cookies are generally as rough as it gets around here. But anywhooo, I got gummies, jellies, kettle corn sweet n' salty popcorn, chips, swedish berries, etc... let's just say my boys were proud.
Once I put the goodies out, I left for dinner with my neighbour and her eight-year-old daughter. After some delicious Japanese food and a glass of wine, I darted home for halftime. I had to see Madonna live. With all the testosterone in the den, and the boys still in sugar-shock, I cranked up the surround sound and waited for Madonna with baited breath. Then, we heard it. Just the music, no Madonna, for "Vogue."
Alright. Let's be honest. Madonna didn't stand a chance. Of course the critics would rip her apart. Yes, she apparently lip synced. Yes, she hardly moved compared to her usual showcase of crazy awesome dance moves (she is rumoured to have a bad hamstring injury). Yes, she annoys people with that odd fake British accent. Yes, her new song is a little, well, again, annoying. Yes, she emits this overwhelming sense of narcissism. Yes, some say she was overshadowed last night by younger talent or even M.I.A who flipped the bird.
All that said, let's take her for what she is -- her past to present. This 53-year-old legend is just that: a legend. A doer. She is a reinventer. She can make Vogueing still current and relevant today. She can party with the Party Rockers. She can sing a duet with a young popstar and still rock it. You be 53, move like that, look like that, sing like that, dance like that, be a mom of four, have a history of decades of success, still push the bar, still stay relevant, and then come back and criticize.
I have discovered along the way that it is the people who never risk who are always the first to criticize. Who are the most judgmental. When you've walked into a sea of unknown and have risked, you don't judge. You know just how tough it is.
And those are my two cents on last night's Superbowl halftime and on life in general.
I'll be a Madonna fan for life: 'cuz she's raw and gritty, 'cuz she never goes down without a fight, 'cuz she has an insurmountable work ethic.
Madonna still remains, the mother of reinvention. And for that, she's got my respect.