I’m not bitter. I live to spend a few minutes escaping in free magazines and catalogs that appear in my mailbox on a daily basis. I no longer go to the mailbox daily, as it’s either bills, or free catalogs and magazines. No one sends letters anymore…it’s all Facebook and Evite. So, I stack the magazines and catalogs on the counter and bring them to the bathroom where we keep the magazine rack…for our spare time during a daily ritual.
So, I have a bit of a cold and I’m really congested (in more areas than one) so I pick up one that has “Four Kids and A Great Body! Find out how!” and think to myself, okay, I’ll look into that one for 5 minutes. I flip to page 26.
Turns out she’s not at all like me…4 kids in 12 years. I had 3 kids in three years. She’s so not a gunner.
Read some more…she tried the ‘newest diets’ and exercise programs, but that wasn’t working so well, so she (and I quote) “started planing for the day when she could afford liposuction.” Her husband, a local physician, didn’t really want her to have surgery (righhhhtttt), but he supported her “choice”. She “had fat removed from her knees, her thighs, her upper arms, her tummy, and her flanks.” Her clothes fit her much better now, she can wear “size fours and sixes again!” She’s on the cover of the magazine with her bleached blonde southern hairdo, her four children playing on the swing set behind her. Oh, and she’s smiling…barely.
The article went on to hype the city plastic surgery center and all of the wonderful things they can do to enhance women. Why can’t we just accept the way our bodies are now? I went to Bunco the other night and I swear I was the only woman there that could frown, not to mention had my original boobs.
Maybe I’m delusional. Sure, I’d love to stick a pair of ta tas in my bra (but I use the chick’fila patties that stick on), and I’d certainly love to cut out the area between my belly button and my c-section scar (I wouldn’t feel that because all of the nerves have been cut, but I’m now believer and prophet of Spanx). However, there comes a point when I am in sheer disgust of body enhancement and botox as the norm of what we are going to or expected to all become. Especially when it makes the cover of a magazine.
Welcome to Stepford.