Oh, Scarlett, We Were Talking About Your Tits

Scarlett Johansson's assistant wrote about the media's dangerous weight obsession in the Huffington Post today, and it sounds like she didn't like a post of ours. But that wasn't the weight we were talking about.

She critiques Us Weekly and the other glossy rags on the newstands she whizzes by in a black SUV. She urges that even though, yes, she is a big time celebrity training to play a latex-clad superhero in a big, big movie, she is just like us. And she offers some statistics from the unfortunately named National Eating Disorders Association that are, of course, sobering: 10 million women and 1 million men suffer from dangerous eating disorders in this stupid country of ours.

So, she'd like to dissuade girls from trying to crash diet like their favorite shiny celebrities. (Don't try this at home, we're professionals.) To drive home the point that she works hard for whatever body she does have, but that she does it healthily and that exercise is good for everyone and magazines lie and ohhh We Are One.

Which is all well and good! If a bit self-important. But at the end she adds the little dig that, we suspect, sparked the whole rant:

I'm not normally the type to dignify toilet paper rags with a response, but in this case I feel it's my responsibility to comment. In a way, I'm glad some dummy journalist (and I use the term "journalist" loosely) is banking on my "deflating" so that I can address the issue straight from my healthy heart.

The 'deflate' refers to this post, written by our own Journalist Ryan Tate, who, tipped off by a Page Six item, noticed some shrinkage. Of boobs.

We support your non-crash-dieting advocacy and condemnation of gross fattie-fat-fat stories.

But we were just talking about your cans, love. Your precious, precious, career-making cans.