We've all wondered why gorgeous supermodels and actresses fall for hideous rock stars. Now, there's finally a word for it: Shrek.

Hey, can you believe that Kate Hudson pulled a shrek?

Man, that Pamela Anderson is such a shreker.

Did you hear that Rose McGowan is no longer shreking with Marilyn Manson?

Shrek not only provides new lingo for this well-known phenomenon, it also explains its baffling mystery: the reason hot babes fall for ugly ogres is because they're ugly ogres themselves. Not physically, of course, but psychologically.

Modern-day princesses suffer from memories of their tormented past: namely, junior high. The fact is, the majority of babes in magazines and on screens were once butt-ugly teenagers: awkward, long-limbed, metal-mouthed, thick-glassed ogres. Ask Cameron Diaz (the voice of Princess Fiona) about her own miserable adolescence.

"No one ever looked at me."

Princess Fiona's nightly curse of ogreness represents the fragile insecurities of ugly girls who become beautiful women. For these transformed ogres, rock star ugliness is the ultimate fantasy. She-ogres not only sympathize and identify with the ugliness but admire the fearless apathy: the belching, the farting, the not-giving-a-fuck-what-other-people-think mojo. Conventional studliness is repulsive to the she-ogre because it reminds her of the people who taunted her unsightliness. Thus, by embracing the grown-up version of the acne-faced hoodlum, the she-ogre redeems ugliness while basking in its liberating rebellion.

In reality, Shrek is about an ugly girl cloaked in adult beauty who chooses Pearl Jam grunginess over N'Sync cuddliness. It is a male version of Pretty Woman: ugly ogre wins beautiful princess by being his own sassy self and thereby revealing the true ogreness of the princess.

In the film, fairy tale characters represent potential pop stars, each with their own marketable gimmick. Lord Farquaad is a soulless producer obsessed with expanding his own music empire. Shrek is an ugly rock star, unmindful of the masses, determined to do things his own way.

The first time we see Fiona's preference for ugliness is when she rejects the dashing Robin Hood and his merry men, who obviously symbolize the boy band du jour with their synchronized kicks, spins, jumps, and smiles—not to mention outfits.

We begin to realize that Fiona is different. While she initially is captive to fairy-tale conventions, her true ogre-self comes to the forefront. She wants Ugly, because she is ugly, and she learns to fully embrace her ugly self by embracing Ugly.

In the end, ugliness wins. Fat is cool. Hips, hips, hooray!

So the next time you hear about some babe shreking a rock star, stop moaning and celebrate the fact that uglies can find each other and live happily ever after. Who knows, maybe there is even hope for you.

Hey now, you're rock star, get the show on . . .