When did it become attractive for a woman not to have boobs? And no butt? And no curves at all? I recall beginning to hear the term “heroine chic” with regard to runway models a few years back and then these girls slowly overtook all my favorite television shows. These girls who, when they strip down for the obligatory on-screen nakedness (as they inevitably do), I can count their ribs… They wear tiny little tee shirts that look like they were made for elementary school girls. Their arms and wrists are so small I’m afraid they’re going to pop and break at any second. It’s disgusting. And I’m sick of it. We are force-fed these images of what women are supposed to look like to the extent that men find nothing else attractive. They watch movies like The Girl Next Door with its strip club scene and Elisha Cuthbert’s bedroom window sideshow and then they walk out into the real world and expect to find a girl like that. This week’s episode of One Tree Hill featured high school girls doing a lingerie fashion show for one another. Smallville’s over-the-top contribution consisted of an ugly duckling with an incredibly bad case of acne who had excessive cosmetic surgery in order to transform herself into a beautiful swan. It took about two seconds from the time she walked into the high school for the boys to be swarming around her. Now I understand that men want a hot woman. But what has become the standard for “hot” makes me sick. A regular girl doesn’t stand a chance with guys who have been conditioned in this way. And what it’s done to the men is not the worst part.

It’s what it has done to us. Women have historically struggled with all types of body-image issues. In the past thirty years the terms “anorexia” and “bulimia” have gone from obscure medical conditions to common knowledge. We compare ourselves to the women in magazines and on television. Even though we know it’s not truly a fair comparison. We know there are countless factors involved in making these “ideal” women appear so. They have personal trainers and stylists and wear $300 jeans. Not to mention photographers who specialize in Photoshop touchups and airbrushing. Yet as long as we are separated from the standards that have been set by even the narrowest of margins, we feel less than. And if we’re over 25, it’s exponentially worse. My point is this: I am sick and tired of trying to be what someone else thinks I should be.

But I can’t get it out of my head.