Today I'm featuring a guest blogger. If her style sounds familiar, there's a good reason: she's my daughter, Mindy Erickson of Calgary. It seems she's a chip off the old word processor. Enjoy.
I am appalled. But I am not sure who appalls me more: the writers of this craptastic magazine, or myself, for purchasing it. I admit, I occasionally like to spoil myself with a wholesome, educational, shoes-and-bags, celebrities-and-eyeliner magazine. Like Vogue.
I came to a compilation edited by Sarah Brown. One writer hated her sagging earlobes and was considering a lobeotomy, costing $2,000-$2,500. Another hates her jawline. She considers getting a jaw lift and practices vigilant home remedies. Another, who at the age of 45 and after at least one Botox treatment, could no longer live with her aging eyelids. She decided on surgery. “A series of four treatments spaced two weeks apart, with a day or two of recovery each, the fee starting at $3,500 for one shot, $1,200 per lighter session.”
Page after boring page, I somehow felt I needed to finish what I’d started. I gave it my best effort, but gave up, incredulous that I had wasted so many minutes and brain cells. Not yet giving up on the entire magazine, however, I flipped pages.
I wish I were making this up, but only a few pages over I read, “Want to know a Vogue secret? Obsessing about your age and your 'flaws' is never chic.”
The brainiacs at Vogue apparently don’t proofread. They devote pages to obsessing about aging and flaws, while in the next breath deem the complete opposite view a “Vogue secret.” Their next gem is, “'Don’t-give-a-damn' is the most fashionable quality ever known.” I hate to break it to them, but girls who truly “don’t-give-a-damn” don’t spend $7,500 tightening their eyelids.
For a change of pace, I picked up Life Without Limits by Nick Vujicic, a man born without arms or legs. My brain quickly switched gears at Nick’s words. “We humans are a silly bunch. We spend half our time trying to fit in with the crowd and the other half trying to stand out from it. . . . Why can’t we be comfortable with ourselves, knowing that we are God’s creations, made to reflect His glory? . . .There has to be a better way to celebrate your individualism ... I’ve adopted an attitude that might work for you. I’ve decided that my beauty lies in my differences, in the fact that I’m not like everybody else . . . I may not stand tall in a crowd, but I definitely stand out.” (pg 84)
This is a guy with no limbs. He sees his difference as an ability that is opening doors. At twenty, he went to South Africa where he gave away most of his life savings--$20,000--to orphanages. He loves himself as he is, and encourages others to do the same.
I have this magical thing called choice. I can decide to follow the advice of truth-tellers and I don’t have to listen to the misguided and selfish nonsense found in a magazine like Vogue. (In case you wanted to know the moral of the eyelid surgery, the author was “Elated. The droop is completely, utterly gone” and “I’m not as self-conscious.” Awesome. Tell that to Nick Vujicic.)
I have vowed to never again spend my resources on another waste-of-a-publication magazine. If I am tempted, I will instead put the six bucks into something worthwhile.
Who knows? Maybe it will eventually be enough for that liposuction I’ve been wanting on my eyebrows.