I Am Britney Spears

I skipped church last Sunday night to watch the highly promoted “tell all” Britney Spears documentary, Britney: For the Record. Sitting in front of my television set, temporarily trapped in her Groundhog Day life of makeup chair, photo shoot, meeting, makeup chair, video shoot, meeting, I felt 15 years old again, giddy and riveted for some assuredly God-forsaken reason by the blond bubble gum-smacking pop star. Britney has always had that effect on me. My teenage years are counted by the hours lost choreographing dances to her songs or tracking her love affair with Justin Timberlake. Let’s just say that, beyond all logic or reason, when Britney’s on, I watch.