STOP PICKING ON LINDSAY LOHAN

Why Do Some People Rejoice In The Unraveling Of A Life And
Career?

Both of my legs are covered in ghastly, purple bruises. I'm not a
soccer player, and I don't have an abusive boyfriend. You might say
I'm a party girl.

My bruises come from clumsily crashing onto a concrete New York City
sidewalk. I'd been out with some girlfriends, was wearing too-tall
stilettos and a few glasses of champagne had disturbed my sense of
balance.

After taking that tumble, I laughed a little too loudly, reassured
some good Samaritans that I was okay, hopped right back up and
continued on with my night. It was a fun evening with my girls-there
was no alcohol poisoning, no random hookups, no brushes with the law.
I made it home safely and into work on time the next morning.

Aside from a friend's Twitter posting about my fall, there was no
evidence of the trouble I'd been up to the night before. There were no
viral videos of me hitting the pavement, no photographs of me flipping
off aggressive paparazzi, and no hearsay reports of how "wasted" I had
been at the club.

But I'm not Lindsay Lohan, the actress who yesterday began a 90-day
jail sentence for violating the terms of her probation, set in 2007
after she pleaded no contest to charges of drunk driving and being
under the influence of cocaine.

I didn't star in a feature film when I was 11 years old, or support my
family financially before I'd even hit puberty. I don't have a father
who talks publicly about my intimate struggles in order to make a few
bucks. Paparazzi don't stalk me 24 hours a day to capture my every
mistake. And tabloids don't dominate newsstands by exaggerating my
wild partying. In other words, there's not a cruel cultural obsession
with rejoicing in the apparent unraveling of my life and career.

Of course, my behaviors are not nearly as extreme as Ms. Lohan's. I've
never been a part of a car chase or a drug bust nor, thankfully, have
I struggled with anorexia or substance addiction. But, like any
24-year-old girl, I make mistakes and have my regrets. It's just that
the world isn't watching me every step of the way.

Most people can't begin to relate to Ms. Lohan's experiences of
childhood stardom, of being lauded as impossibly talented and
beautiful while being thrust into a world of unlimited privilege.
Obstacles that deter most of us in our formative years didn't exist
for her. Money was not an issue, drugs and alcohol were readily
available, parental supervision was minimal, and hired professionals
apparently couldn't tell her "no."

I like to think that if I had been a celebrity at a young age, I would
have been like Natalie Portman or Dakota Fanning, starlets who stayed
grounded and career-focused despite their surreal careers. But I can
imagine how easily one can give into the dangerous temptations that
Ms. Lohan did.

Drunk driving is deplorable. Blowing off court-ordered
responsibilities and showing up to trial with expletives scrawled on
your fingernails is not the way to garner respect. And Ms. Lohan is
not above the law.

But eating disorders, alcoholism, drug addiction and apparent
psychological illness should not be laughed at by the American public.
Since I can't guarantee that I wouldn't have succumbed to similar
demons had I lived a life like Ms. Lohan's, I won't gawk at her
condition, and I will root for her to get the help she desperately
needs.

She's a talented actress and, admit it, we all hope for a Lohan cameo
in the upcoming "Mean Girls" sequel.

Ms. Macatee is a writer in New York.