why i read Esquire-instead of women’s magazines…i suppose i’m well past the age of believing there is some magic pot of expensive whatever, that will keep me young. Advertising in women’s mags., i am deeply offended by the barely twenty year old, trying to sell me an anti-aging product that will rid me of…well, aging. Or the beautiful women my age, their skin as tight as a babe’s tush AND sometimes a mannequin, when we KNOW they have filled their faces with botox AND claim it’s the magic pot of cream that made them thus. LIES, all.
Women’s magazines tell us how to organize mudrooms (who knew there were so many mudrooms around?) with bins or baskets from Pottery Barn (am i the only poor person reading Better Homes & Gardens?) or huge laundry rooms big enough to put a table to wrap our Christmas gifts in (really?!) (i can fit into my laundry room without feeling claustrophobic, almost. and i know how fucking blessed I am to have a laundry room at all).
i organized my art studio with blue plastic bins from the dollar tree. it looks AWESOME.
Hypocrisy on every page…anti-aging cream on the young, the skinny woman in the apron, cooking w/butter or the woman, dressed in expensive clothes, showing us how to put our shit away. The first few pages of woman’s mags are ‘don’t eat, but do exercise, then food receipts of cakes & casseroles on the NEXT page. If you’re not eating it, why are you cooking it?!
The undeniable truth is we women feel we do not age as well as men, or we shouldn’t age at all (unless said men proudly display their pot bellies) so we look for magic, within the pages or the drug store, department stores–to become beautiful, or younger, and stronger, and if we can’t do that, we are cooking a lot of food & being taught how to put it on the table. yet, magazine after magazine repeats these things over & over with nothing new to learn about REAL LIFE.
They depress me.
So i read Esquire. The Cold Open is brilliant (more often then not)… there are stories, cut to fit, written by authors THAT write books. WOW. men read? How come women don’t? This month’s ‘The Cold Open’ was written by Mary-Louise Parker–gasp, men read words written by women?!
The MaHB SEX section of the magazine is hysterical, not who has questioned their male parts, but the answers to them.
Instead of looking at beautiful (polished to an unnatural AND unattainable) women, I look at photographs of men in advertising. That is better. I don’t feel bad looking at men with their grey hair & wrinkles, & that ‘too lazy to shave’ look.
Even the Sexiest Woman Alive teaches me a few things about photographing women…although they are usually dressed.
Woman COULD NEVER get away with wrinkles or grey hair & not shaving everything…with their pink razors.
To simplify Woman’s magazines (because they are all the same): You are being exploited, by corporations, for MONEY, because of your insecurities, but we are all insecure about something. AND yet, we WANT to believe.
- You’re too heavy & old, buy this $100 an oz. cream & exercise, you cow.
- organize your mudroom because they are so prevalent in everyday life–although i call mine, “The Garage”
- After you organize your expensive home crap & put on cream & exercise, THEN go to the kitchen & cook massive amounts of Holiday food, but don’t eat it—put the damn magazine down & have a real life. i have wrinkles, bags, my kid’s rooms are a mess, my house is…nicely cluttered. And I take out the trash. What else is there to know?
Read one issue of Esquire.
I read Esquire because it is a smarter, funnier & truthful-even if it hurts, magazine. They advertise cars (women don’t drive?) Expensive alcohol (woman don’t drink?) Watches that can get wet (women don’t wear watches? Even if they are men’s? I wear a man’s watch–because i’m old & I can’t SEE the numbers…)
Mary-Louise Parker is Awesome! She pretends to write to Popeye (yup, the spinach guy) in her new book. It is funny, sad & sexy & dirty…but the ending. wow.
she writes: ” I remember when you went off to trek the Pyrenees, you brought me flowers you picked from the top of a mountain there, carried them back in a tiny woven basket that I saved to this day, even though the flowers are dust. I wrote about us while you were away in a notebook that eventually saw the end of us, but the last I wrote about that time was in ink; it was a hurried, angry scrawl reading: Time, that cold bastard, with its nearlys and untils. I think, what a shame. Time should weep for having spent me without you.”
She didn’t bold the me or the you. I did. In one sentence she describes (to me, anyway) what time can do & how we waste it, wish for more of it…or try to stop it.
Which leads me to this conclusion, i know how to bring about world peace (really just the women side) a woman will never find, nor make, peace…until she feels peace within & about herself.
Toss the magazines that make you feel less then who you are AND read about how cool & unique you are. Find something to read that will make you stronger, smarter & funnier. Instead of worrying about aging…go do something that brings you peace. like dancing around your living room.