Stop Picking On Lindsay Lohan

From Rebecca Macatee, at WSJ:

Both of my legs are covered in ghastly, purple bruises. I'm not a soccer player, and I don't have an abusive boyfriend. You might say I'm a party girl.

My bruises come from clumsily crashing onto a concrete New York City sidewalk. I'd been out with some girlfriends, was wearing too-tall stilettos and a few glasses of champagne had disturbed my sense of balance.

After taking that tumble, I laughed a little too loudly, reassured some good Samaritans that I was okay, hopped right back up and continued on with my night. It was a fun evening with my girls—there was no alcohol poisoning, no random hookups, no brushes with the law. I made it home safely and into work on time the next morning.

Aside from a friend's Twitter posting about my fall, there was no evidence of the trouble I'd been up to the night before. There were no viral videos of me hitting the pavement, no photographs of me flipping off aggressive paparazzi, and no hearsay reports of how "wasted" I had been at the club.

But I'm not Lindsay Lohan, the actress who yesterday began a 90-day jail sentence for violating the terms of her probation, set in 2007 after she pleaded no contest to charges of drunk driving and being under the influence of cocaine.

I didn't star in a feature film when I was 11 years old, or support my family financially before I'd even hit puberty. I don't have a father who talks publicly about my intimate struggles in order to make a few bucks. Paparazzi don't stalk me 24 hours a day to capture my every mistake. And tabloids don't dominate newsstands by exaggerating my wild partying. In other words, there's not a cruel cultural obsession with rejoicing in the apparent unraveling of my life and career.

Of course, my behaviors are not nearly as extreme as Ms. Lohan's ...

RTWT at the link.

IMAGE CREDIT: "Lindsay Lohan Covers Complex’s August/September 2010 Issue!"

PREVIOUSLY: "Lindsay Lohan in German GQ."