Apparently Madonna has dropped celebrity trainer Tracy Anderson, and the world is reeling.
Anderson, who recently opened up an private gym in Tribeca – which you can join for the low, low rate of $900 a month – apparently has too much “baggage” for Madonna.
Apparently Anderson, like, totes skipped out on the last leg of Madonna’s tour because she was shacking up with Philippe van den Bossche, the head of Madonna’s Malwai charity. This, naturally, enraged Madonna, and we’re assuming that some sort of yoga-pose-off or leotard competition took place, leaving Anderson, naturally, in the dust.
However, Anderson’s publicist is saying that:
"This is not true. After working together for three years, Tracy and Madonna mutually parted ways because Tracy wanted to look after her son.”
Ah yes, the old “looking after you kids” excuse.
We’re sure that Anderson will be fine, as she released a workout DVD earlier this year, is spotted hanging out with people like Gwyneth Paltrow and, again, has that $900-per-month gym.
But more to the point, at the risk of being a body-snarking, total bitch: who the hell would use Madonna’s trainer?
While she is a great musician and dancer, her arms are SCARY. And she DOESN’T EAT CHEESE. I get the sneaky feeling that Tracy is cool with such shenanigans, and I therefore would never buy her DVD, nor will I start selling drugs just so I can afford to be a member of her gym.
I’d rather eat cheese and not have arms that look like they belong on a G.I. Joe figurine.