When the hullaballoo over the new Jennifer Hudson album cover came out, I reserved judgment. After all, I don't know what's going on with J.Hud recently. Maybe she's been losing weight and succumbing to Hollywood pressure after all. I haven't actually looked at her or anything. Maybe she wasn't airbrushed out of oblivion on the one thing that was supposed to be celebrating who she is, without worrying about selling clothes or making magazine editors happy, nothing. An album intended for fans who already understand that the girl played Effie not Twiggy. Surely RCA Records wouldn't slap her head on someone else's body, would they? Would they?

Want to see a beautiful woman? Here she is, looking normal and casual and awesome. And it doesn't matter that she's got an Academy Award. It doesn't matter that she can sing like an angel. It just doesn't matter because she needs to keep her awesome rack but somehow have her waist whittled down until her ribs seem to no longer exist. That's what matters.

To quote the Wicked Witch of the West, oh what a world, what a world.