And I want it back.
Ok, Lena Dunham. Let’s get one thing straight: you stole my name. Before you came along, the only Lena I had to compete with was Lena Horne, and she was pretty much retired by the time I was born.
Sure, you’re actually six years older than me and thus technically came first. But that’s neither here nor there.
This whole thing wouldn’t be such an issue if you weren’t basically omnipresent.
It all started innocently enough with your show Girls. But then the show skyrocketed so fast! It was like you were on every late night talk show and being talked about on every website.
But that wasn’t enough because then you had to go and write your book Not That Kind of Girl (which was a bestseller, of course). Of course, with a book comes a national book tour.
And in the meantime, if you weren’t being interview by Vogue that month, you were gracing the cover of Harper’s Bazaar.
Since then, you’ve gone on to start your own newsletter Lenny (which coincidentally is the nickname my sister used to call me when we were going up) and host your own chart topping podcast Women of the Hour. You’re damn-near inescapable!
Ok, Lena Dunham, I give. Keep your fame and your fortune, your cool friends and your crazy amount of success. Just give me back my name. Please?