'Gwyneth drinks one of these every morning, whether or not she’s detoxing.'
No, she doesn't. She just fucking doesn't. She wakes up and realises she's trapped inside a joke, and that joke is what people who aren't her describe as her 'life'. This is what happens when the ratio of disposable income to necessary daily tasks reaches 10000000000000000000000:0. You start thinking that those stupid things you 'create' while desperately waiting to be reclaimed by the warm and forgiving embrace of unconsciousness are things that other people might actually want. So you start a 'business' (you drown the nearest teenager in money until you have a page on the internet to call your own) and then sometime later, to your eternal horror, you realise that abject failure would have been preferable to this: a reputation, for health, that you now have to live up to. Because there are just enough ultra-rich botox-riddled stool-dairy-keeping 70% human 30% nothing people in the world for your 'idea', which was probably born out of having seven too many breakfast martinis, to be made real.
It's not often I say this but, here's the Daily Mail with more.