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.

I know how you feel, and I totally agree. It’s disgusting that I can be normal, but still feel like I could stand to lose a few pounds. Not that I do anything about it, but the thought is still there. (You have to admit it was funny that they called that Smallville episode Kryp/Tuck! Cracked me up)
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The entertainment industry sends the wrong messages in a lot of ways. My daughters both want to look like the girls on the Disney channel shows. It’s hard to argue against TV since there’s no way to talk back to it. I’m all for resisting.
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Not so long ago a well known mag over here in Oz published a list of the “100 Most Beautiful Women Alive”, along with their photos. It was passed around the lunch table at work and discussed. No one belived me when I said I actually only found 3 or 4 of them attractive.
And my reasons? Because most of them didn’t look real. Only a small few actually looked like girls I might meet in real-life situations, sitting in a cafe or walking past me in the street; but, believe it or not – to some guys at least – someone looking like a ‘real’ girl is alot more important than ‘being able to count their ribs when you see them naked’, as Kim put it.
The funny thing is though – no one believed me when I explained why I didn’t find most of the women on the list attractive.
Or is that funny? Maybe it’s just a comment on modern society…
This is Kent Brockman, and that was My Two Cents…
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It distresses me too that we are so bombarded by these images of what ideal women AND men are supposed to look like that somehow, our subconcious minds just give up and start to belive the lies; and by the time we realize what’s happened, it’s too late, the die is cast. I find myself feeling “less than” sometimes because I don’t have killer pecs and perfect washboard abs.
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I’m so with all of you on this one. Personally, I don’t find ‘coat hangers’, as my friend refers to too-skinny women, attractive at all.
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Please note that I do agree with everything everyone has said–it’s sad the that entertainment industry has poisoned our minds on what is beautiful and what is not. At the same time, as one of those shapeless girls, I appreciate not being told I need to have boobs to be attractive. And no, you cannot count my ribs, but you can see my hip bones very clearly. I’m sure this facsination is a phase and someday we will return to the days where women like Marilyn Monroe will be worshipped. And I will once again feel I am not a woman because I am flat.
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Hey Kim!
The no boobs and butt thing bodes well for me because I have neither. Just small by nature at 5’2″.
I do agree, and I have to laugh when I see this stuff. Airburshed women, (and men too!), non-stop personal trainers.
But hey look at it this way- when their looks go, so do their careers. THat’s not true for most people!
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I can see my ribs, and believe me I eat, and have to justify that to people on a daily basis. This is just how I am built. I went through a phase, in my late teens, when I contemplated plastic surgery but I decided then that who I am is who I am. Over the years I’ve found that the most attractive people are the ones that own who they are.
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I’m with you on this. My boyfriend and I just saw an ad for these dolls (bratz??) and the girl in the ad was probably about 11 or 12 and she was dressed like a hooker for her date! A real skank! We were shocked and appalled. It so totally portrayed the wrong image for young girls. It disgusted us.
On another blog that I read (written by a 15 year-old girl) I had to laugh. She wrote something along the lines of “you’re rich and famous so why don’t you buy some clothes! You can afford them!” It’s all about skin and T&A. It’s sad.
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