In honor of Women's History month and my six-year-old daughter, I would like to cancel all my subscriptions. Like the magazine you send me in place of Jane magazine, which while it was not perfect, was the only women's magazine I really liked. Now, I know you aren't written for six-year-olds, but see, my kid and I wanted to make a collage, so we pulled you out and I watched my kid flip through your pages. Because I try and talk about stuff with her instead of forbidding things, I cringed as she leafed through page after page of beauty tips and diet tips and skinny, mainly white teens cavorting with poor locals in exotic places, and commented on how silly this and that was.
But while she giggled at my wry commentary and agreed with me, I also saw her eyes light up a little at the sight of women prettied up like the princesses she gets fed at every turn. And she asked me, "What does this mean about 'Angie' and 'girl crushes'?" I told her Angelina Jolie is just famous for being an actress and being pretty, and then I felt sad that I know so much about Angie. I mean, it may be every man and woman's dream to sleep with Brad Pitt, but I know more about her than I do most of the suffragettes.
As she stared at photo after photo, I saw again that your pages are devoted primarily to how I can improve my appearance, with occasional forays into what men really want and what they like and hate about me. I mean, of course I totally knew that, but even as jaded as I am, it hit me in a new way when I was glancing over my child's shoulder. I like fashion and I like to look nice, but I don't really passionately care if leggings are still hot or if a plus-sized woman should wear a boxy jacket. And of course, "normal" bodies are only featured in "figure fix" sections--again, not a newsflash, but I think I'd prefer if my kid didn't worry about what to fix in her looks because you know she's absolutely perfect the way she is, and I imagine to me, she always will be.
So thanks, and even I'm surprised by how much you got to me. I don't think everything is all your fault, but you do cater to what we already eat up, and I'm full. I may still have to read you to snark about this and that because it is my job, but I'd prefer you stayed out of my house. We'll make our collage out of something else. If my child wants to "fix" something maybe we can discuss trying your best and character and integrity and shit like that, and not worry about whether men find aggressive women attractive. Then we'll leave the house with last year's lip color (on me) and enjoy the nice weather and talk about Gertrude Stein or something.
