By Linda Bakke
Star Magazine promotes violence against women.
The starlets are constantly attacked for any extra weight, cellulite, bunions, ugly fingers or thick arms. It feels like open season. “Kill the Celebrity” is the name of the game.
One section called “Knifestyles” advocates mutilating women through plastic surgery. With the accompanying message, “You’re not good enough.”
In fact, Star uses the same devices that characterize domestic abusers: watching the victim’s every move, humiliation, stressing the negative rather than the positive aspects of the victim (who is supposedly adored), using “it’s her fault” to launch an attack, and transferring the abuser’s dissatisfaction with life and himself onto the victim. Read the rest of this entry
Beauty and the Beast’s Belle is much evolved from Disney’s early wimpy maidens.
That evolution tells us something about us, too. Read the rest of this entry
I read somewhere that most women who want breast augmentation ask for a C cup. But an awful lot of surgeons convince them to get D’s. Or the doctors simply give them a bigger size than they had asked for.
Denise Richards, actress, model and one of Charlie Sheen’s ex’s, said that when she was 19 years old a doctor put in bigger implants than she’d asked for.
Actress, Tara Reid, has a similar story:
I was 34B, but the right one was always bigger than the left. He gave me C’s, and I didn’t want them. At all.
“Spectatoring” is the word Masters and Johnson used to describe watching yourself have sex instead of being swept up in sexual pleasure.
You aren’t in the game, you are watching from the sidelines — present and absent all at once.
To get a sense of how commonly young women get distracted, I asked this survey question:
By Sarah Merrick
Each year around the holidays 9 million viewers and I tune into the one-hour insecurity ride that is the “Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show.”
Weeks later I’m still dazed by self-doubt. Is that how boys think I should look?
The Super Bowl soon follows with guys drooling over the large breasts, tiny waist, and flowing blonde hair of a model savoring a Carl’s Jr. burger. (Likely the only meal she’s had in days.) Her name in 2016 was Charlotte McKinney — and the ad was voted one of the Super Bowl’s best. Read the rest of this entry
I’ve never been a size 0 girl.
As a kid I was bullied for being overweight, and every night I cried myself to sleep.
My parents were busy raising my two baby sisters, so I was left to raise myself. Without guidance I read magazine articles on how to lose weight.
When I turned 12 I began starving myself. I ate maybe one meal a day. Or none. And added crazy exercise routines to my crazy diet.
At family gatherings I ate very little, or watched other people enjoy their delicious food.
I began to hate food. If I ate I felt like the worst human being — who should be punished with an extra mile of running.
My weight went down. And unfortunately, so did my metabolism. Read the rest of this entry
Yet women don’t care about looks so much because, even though women are very picky, clear physical cues to the best genes aren’t all that important. A man’s resources are what matter.
So say evolutionary psychologists.
Hmmmm. Maybe not. Read the rest of this entry
By Caroline Bliss Duffy
I went on my first diet in 2nd grade.
Forget that fruit roll up, unless you want a big belly that other kids poke at and yell “Blubber!”
By age 13 I was playing soccer and taking kickboxing classes. And I hardly ate.
At 5’8” I weighed 123 lbs, but still felt “fat” — an obsession that continued until I was 16, when I started doing some modeling in the city. By then I was a “hefty” 132 lbs. My agency took me but said I should get down to 125 lbs if I wanted constant work. Read the rest of this entry
It’s not unusual these days for a young woman to become preoccupied with how attractive she looks, habitually seeing herself through her partner’s eyes, and judging herself based on what she thinks he thinks. In other words, to self-objectify.
Instead of enjoying sex.
I’ve talked with friends about the phenomenon and a couple of them have opened up and told me their stories. Like “Sophie,” who let me relate her story in my blog. Read the rest of this entry