Wednesday, 12 September 2012 16:34

Barbie's plastic people

Do you know what scares me? Barbie. Barbie scares me. You know why? She's plastic. I know this is not necessarily groundbreaking news, but hear me out. As a teacher who works with young women between the ages of 16-18, I see girls who truly believe their self-worth depends on their ability to morph into whatever someone else thinks is beautiful. Do you know why they think this? Barbie.

I know, I know. Why am I blaming rich ol' Barbie? What did she ever do besides become a vet and marry Ken? It's not that simple. From the time girls were handed their first Barbie doll to the moment they hop in the driver's seat, much of what girls have been given tells them that they aren't made of sugar and spice and everything nice they're made of plastic. Think of all those pretty dolls, the princess costumes, the Disney movies: Where is 'Bad Haircut Barbie?' Any pleasantly plump Disney princesses out there? Why didn't Cinderella bust out of her 24-hour girdle instead of that glass slipper?

Published in Style
Wednesday, 22 August 2012 22:45

Mirror, Mirror On the Wall...'

When I woke up this morning, I did what I always do the first moment my eyes meet daylight: I looked in the mirror. This isn't hard to do, since I happen to sleep in front of one. In fact, it has become a ritual. Wake, stretch, squint at my reflection. You may wonder what in particular I'm squinting at, and I'm not sure I can tell you.

Usually, I start with a good look at my bed head. Did I wake with ready-to-go hair? If I have left my locks in a pony the night before, I let it down and tousle it a bit. For someone with zero volume, curl or even wave, this is my best hope for achieving a Jennifer Anniston-like hot mess. Failing to achieve celebrity bed head, I turn to the side to assess the cow lick. I'm going to have to wet it down.

I lean in close for a quick scan of the crow's feet. Smile. Do I look older when I smile? Was that crease in my forehead there yesterday, or is it a line from the pillow? The furrow is only there when I'm concentrating on something, like a line in my forehead. Note to self: no smiling or furrowing of any kind just listless looking off into the distance from now on.

Published in Style


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