Magazine racks
I’m so weary of reading women’s magazines. I keep doing it because I’m convinced there’ll be some nugget of wisdom that’ll be the key to my well-being. No such luck.
In fact, today I got an email from a friend, Mercy, about women and body image. One of the most interesting facts was that a psychological study done in 1995 found that just three minutes spent looking at a fashion magazine caused 70 percent of women to feel depressed, guilty and shameful. That definitely happens to me.
Part of that may be the changing shape of the models: 20 years ago they weighed 8 percent less than the average woman. Today they weigh 23 percent less.
I do appreciate the companies that are using plus-sized models in their ads. There was a time when plus-sized companies would only show the clothing they sold, not the body the clothing was intended for. But the overhyped Dove “Real Beauty” campaign is actually part of the problem: Three of the four women in one of those ads are tall with flat stomachs. They’re pretty—conventionally so. And yet the way people have talked about the ads, you’d think they were gruesomely obese. (The website has a nice photo exhibit of differing ideas of beauty, though.)
I look for plus-sized models in all the magazines, and rarely find them. But when I do, I’m pleased that women will get the message: You don’t have to look like a supermodel to be sexy and pretty. You can have a bulging tummy, and big boobs, and thick thighs, and still be a knock-out.
liz | 12:28 PM | Uncategorized
I’m male, but I get depressed every month when my copy of Harpers Bazaar arrives. Turns out the 3 year renewal slip for “Harpers” I filled out and sent in wasn’t what I thought it was at all. Not at all. Beh.
Oh wow. That sucks. And you’re stuck for three years? My condolences.
It’s nice to see fuller figures–flabbier figures–in glossy photos, but how come guys never write blogs like this about women? I still can’t figure out if women’s magazines depress us because we can’t accept ourselves or because we know that even balding saggy little single men are holding out for women with long, shiny hair who can’t pinch more than an inch anywhere but their breasts.
I know exactly what you mean. I hear even below-average men talk about women as though they could actually have their pick of Swedish Bikini Team college seniors. Our culture seems to pander to men who want to believe that; the proximity of such female pulchritude in magazines and online makes them seem accessible. It’s like me thinking I could hop into bed with Orlando Bloom. Not gonna happen.
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