Image via AP.
Image via AP.

It appears that no one in the Trump household had any desire for its demented paterfamilias to become president, including—but not limited to—his wife Melania, according to a new profile in Vanity Fair, as well as piles of empirical evidence.


Melania declined to be interviewed for the writeup, though discussions with White House staff and “friends” (do friends agree to go on the record for damning stories about their friends’ misery?) reveal once again that Mrs. Trump is not a happy camper.

“This isn’t something she wanted and it isn’t something he ever thought he’d win,” one longtime friend of the Trumps’ told me. “She didn’t want this come hell or high water. I don’t think she thought it was going to happen.”


Well, no shit. Remember how excited she was to move into the White House? And with what relish she’s jumped into her role as First Lady? Remember how much fun she had at the Vatican? And how much she loves her husband? And touching his little paw?

Another alleged friend added that it was “old news” that Melania and the pastrami to which she’s married “live essentially separate lives;” even her staunchest defenders couldn’t argue with a straight face that she’s content with her current existence. Paolo Zampolli, the modeling agent who introduced Melania to Trump, argued that she must be happy on the basis that “to be the most famous person in the world is not that bad.” Then, he hedges:

Still, he acknowledged that it had taken her some time to get used to the role. In what he characterized as “personal speculation,” he told me that “in the beginning it was not pleasant,” owing to the scrutiny of the campaign. Now, Zampolli concluded, she is warming to the role. “She knows what she wants.”

The story comes just seven months after the magazine’s last deep dive into Melania’s vacant psyche, suggesting that Vanity Fair has successfully cornered the “Melania Is Miserable” beat. But if they keep writing ‘em, I’ll keep reading ‘em, right up until the day my eyeballs ossify into marbles. Which can’t come soon enough.

Night blogger at Jezebel

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