I had no plans this weekend. I wrote bad poetry, lazed around in sunbeams and read tons of glossy magazines
I struggled. Not with the heat or the haikus, but with the content.
Cosmo. Fair Lady. Woman and Home. Even Good Bloody Housekeeping.
It’s like a time warp. Reading the same stuff that we’ve been reading for years.
Five ways to remove your body hair.
Ten ways to lose weight.
Fifteen ways to change your sex life.
Twenty ways to hold on to your man.
How to buy the perfect bra
And how to throw a wedding for just one million rand.
How about admitting that the underwire of the bra that cost more than your car is killing you?
How about how not to have a wedding?
And maybe deciding that you don’t need to hold on to your man unless it’s while you’re having sex against the wall and he’s picked you up and goddammit you do not want to fall down.
I would change everything.
I would start with the headline – 10 ways Magazines are Fucking you over.
Give us stuff we want to read. Things we can relate to. Women who look real. Bras that don’t have underwire.
Give us stuff that’s juicy and engaging and exciting and even a little bit challenging.
Maybe I’m just difficult. Maybe I’m reading the wrong magazines.
I’m going to give in and go back to the sunshine.
Don’t tell anyone but I’m taking Cosmo with me. I need to finish their ‘Sexier by Summer’ guide.
‘How to get the perfect bikini bod.’