I’m sitting here, watching the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show (something I do every year), while stuffing my face with Chocolate Teddy Grahams. Yes, I’m trying to ignore my sorrow by masking my pain with chocolate. Shockingly enough, though, eating fistfuls of tiny bear-shaped cookies straight out of the box is not making me look any more like the 90-pound, 6’2 models I’m watching dance down the runway in 6-inch stilettos that cost more than my car. And they get wings. Come on, isn’t that just adding insult to injury, now?
When I look at a Victoria’s Secret catalogue, sure, I cry because I have no boobs, let alone Double D’s. Sure, I weep over the fact that they are a foot taller than me and weigh less. And, yes, I contemplate plastic surgery when I see how flawless their skin and features are. However (and this is a BIG, HUGE, GIGANTIC “however,” ladies), I also know that the catalogue has some of the best-paid Photoshoppers in the business. I can, there, lie to myself and say that they really aren’t that beautiful in real life. That it’s a computer making them stunning. That they’re actually ugly and fat and that’s Victoria’s REAL secret. And then I watch the annual Fashion Show and immediately reach for the Kleenex.
How can they be so perfect? I once went to a Baby Phat fashion show with my old boss when I was a fashion intern at People StyleWatch Magazine. I’ll never forget how much of a hit my self-esteem took that night. I have literally never in my life felt worse about my body. The only explanation is that these people – guys and girls – never eat. And, no, I didn’t say eat healthy or eat minimally…I mean they must fast for years to look like that. It reminds me of a quote from The Devil Wears Prada that my cousin Amanda recently brought up. “I’m on this new diet [in preparation for Fashion Week in Paris]. Well, I don’t eat anything and when I feel like I’m about to faint I eat a cube of cheese. I’m just one stomach flu away from my goal weight.” Tell me these supermodels don’t do the same sick thing.
FYI, I’m totally still eating the Teddy Grahams. What? I’m not tall enough to be an International supermodel, anyway…