Britney is undeniably flawed. She makes mistake after embarrassing mistake. She walks funny in high heels, she sometimes chews gum during interviews, she can’t handle her own crazy party load and probably couldn’t piece together a truly classy ensemble if my life depended on it.
You get it. She’s human.
All of her goofs and cringe-worthy moments only endear her to me and her zillions of other loyal fans. If she didn’t mess up sometimes she would just be this perfect looking, filthy rich, spectacularly talented phenomenon that nobody could relate to. Where’s the fun in that?
On the stage she is as close to impeccable as it gets. Her mastery of rhythm, timing, and overall delivery should put any half knowledgeable music fan in awe. Personality wise she has all of her diva competitors beat- hands down. She is practical, warm, and generous. People continue to cry about her image, fashion sense and partying mishaps, but the media and spectators seem to be oblivious, or at least very indifferent, to the fact that she donates to charities, applauds her competition and works herself into total exhaustion trying to serve her fans insatiable “Britney! Britney! Britney!” needs.
I pity the people who abhor her presence in music because it should be obvious, after the string of potential career-ending rumors, bad press, declining (though still very commendable) record sales, family and relationship trauma and unfair speculation of every angle of her complex, sheltered life, that she is indeed here to stay.
To refer you back to the title of this essay, her undefeatable persistence, in the face of affliction, is the reason I really like Britney Spears.