My quick run to the grocery store tonight turned into an hour - fifteen minutes to find what I wanted, and more than thirty minutes waiting in line. I had plenty of time to look through my purse, people watch, file my nails, rotate my tires, whatever....and I ended up reading the covers on the magazines at the check out stand. I never buy those, because, well....they're too fluffy even for me. But I like to read the headlines...who are these articles addressing? All of them are aimed women, or at least at the women we're supposed to want to be. Sixteen different magazines, and all the featured articles were aimed at four basic female interest groups: weight loss, how to be better in bed, what celebrity was breaking up/getting together/having kids/adopting kids/buying a house/selling a house, and how to get rid of cellulite. According to the newstand, cellulite is the new cold war era Russia - quietly creeping into our society in droves, and preparing to wreck homes and marriages across the country if we don't all fight it with beauty products and Thighmasters.
The so-called women's magazines at the checkout had hints for matching my haircut to my face, how to buy fashion shoes on a budget, and a million and one low-fat recipes for lasagna (which is not meant to be low-fat, just save it for special occasions...). Or, maybe if I just stay away from the lasagna, I wouldn't NEED the Thighmaster. Not one of the magazine covers elaborated on why I spent nearly $60 to fill up my gas tank this morning, or what's going on in the world of astralphysics, or about cancer research, the troops in the Gulf, or any one of a million questions that would cross my mind before I'd worry about what fashion don't Vanessa Hudgins committed last week.
Now, I'm not saying that all magazines are fluff, but that's what is sitting at the check out stand. Because women do most of the grocery shopping, and fluff is what is sitting there waiting for us to make our impulse purchases. I never see Mensa puzzles at the check out stand.
Again, who buys this crap? I'm sure in the perfect world of Barbie and Ken, this is all a women needs to feel fulfilled. Me, I'm a little more pessimistic. First of all, my dream house doesn't clean itself, and unlike the Barbie version, mine has a toilet. That doesn't clean itself either. My thighs aren't plastic perfection, and ok, yes, they've got a little bit of cellulite. In fact, according to a three year old, I should work out more because my leg tops are getting just a little bit jiggly. Wait, I'm pretty sure I saw an article on that this evening....
See, I'm raising two girls of my own, and I don't want them to grow up in a world where they think that thirty days to thinner thighs is a high reaching goal, or that they should care too much about what the plastic people in Hollywood are doing in their dream house lives. Barbie never had kids to worry about influencing. Of course she didn't, since Ken was never anatomically correct. Maybe she should have hooked up with GI Joe instead, but of course, in the Barbie world, war doesn't fit one of women's four basic areas of interest. So, no soldier boys for Barbie the Banal.
Don't get me wrong, I grew up on Barbie, and I loved her little plastic world. I loved her dreamhouse, and loved playing dress up - especially the little pink, impossibly high heels. But I knew the difference - I wanted to play with Barbie, not be her. Well, OK, I might have wanted the pink convertible. There's a reason why they named it her DREAM house, and her DREAM wedding, and her DREAM yacht....they're fantasies.
In my fantasy, Barbie has a kick-ass career and Ken stays home with the kids. The back rooms in the dream house are looking a little worn, because Ken can never manage to get the crayon off the walls or the bubble gum off the pink sofa. My fantasy Barbie likes walking barefoot and finally manages to walk on flat feet, instead of on her tip toes.
In my fantasy magazine rack, I find helpful information, and things that women really want to know. The top ten places to vacation with kids, without scary sized cartoon characters, gimmicky theme rides or exploited animals. How to talk tech with your auto mechanic, so you don't get fleeced. How to juggle kids, a job, and grad school. How about why you should keep in touch with friends, and how sad you'll be in later life if you don't. How about real issues for women - forget fad diets, how about someone writing about what it's like to try and maintain a healthy lifestyle with no time, no money and no energy.
In my fantasy, those marketing at our impulse to buy shiny magazines will look beyond the two dimensional people on the pages, and realize we're real human beings with complex thoughts and better ways to spend our time - even in an endless check out line. Next time, I'm bringing a book.
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