Ciara routinely is a high Fug Madness seed, because her wardrobe is a spectacle. This InStyle cover reminded me that her face is the real knockout: I love everything about the composition of this shot, from her full curly hair filling the frame to the robust neckline on that dress. If I were Ciara, I would frame this and hang it in my house. She has a hard-won chiseled physique (which she talks about in the story), but honestly, she doesn’t need that to be totally arresting. I love the simplicity and efficacy of just putting the camera right in her face and letting that carry the day.
The photos in the actual spread are less thrilling, in part because some of them are so costumey that you actually LOSE her face, and/or a sense of her Ciaraness. And the story is your usual: She’s got drive, she’s had success, she loves her kids and her husband, she wore no makeup and ate mahi mahi tacos.
I very much appreciate that, as the author notes, Ciara doesn’t pretend she doesn’t exercise, or that she got this body from running around after her kids/lifting her children/everything in moderation; often, I think celebrities’ desire to pretend they don’t work hard at their physiques can be just as damaging as airbrushing, in terms of selling a false image. Having said that, the parts where she discusses her fitness regimen do verge on obsessive:
She credits a strict diet, gallons of water, and intense exercise — as many as three workouts a day — with helping her snap back from two pregnancies that each caused her to pack on more than 60 pounds. […] Mornings consisted of weight lifting. Afternoons were dedicated to high-intensity treadmill workouts that alternated with lung-crushing sprints and light jogs. Evenings were spent riding her Peloton bike for 30 to 45 minutes. […] Having reclaimed her pre-baby waistline, she now has daily 90-minute workouts with trainer-to-the stars Decker Davis that are scaled back in intensity and primarily for maintenance. “I truly believe that self-love is key,” she says. “And my definition of self-love is taking care of myself.”
Daily 90-minute workouts that are primarily for maintenance? That is a fit human. I, too, love to break a sweat, but give me a rest day or three.
This cracked me up and I can’t tell if it was supposed to:
The only telltale sign of her fabulous life is the colossal glacier that envelops her left ring finger. She bursts into giggles when I suggest that I could ice-skate across her diamond, but she demurs when asked how many carats make up her rock. “They are carats of love,” she says, dodging the question like a seasoned pro.
“Carats of Love” has got to be a GFY band or album name, no?