Not Just For Models Anymore

Sing it, sister. Tatiana from Jezebel comments on this essay from a model's perspective, but believe me when I tell you you don't have to be professionally hot to understand what the hell these women are talking about.

I should just file this under: One of the many reasons I want to be reincarnated as a cactus in my next life.

Join Me in the Way Back Machine

I went to the New Kids on the Block concert last Saturday. That's right, I said it. And I didn't just go, I loved it. Thirty-thousand of us gathered together in the Allstate Arena, and agreed en masse to jump into the Way Back Machine. Mission accomplished. Not only did I regress to age twelve, I learned a few lessons along the way.

First of all, the guys who hated New Kids when I was a prepubescent fan still hate them. No one expects manly men to enjoy the sonic and choreographic stylings of five dudes obviously singing to chicks. I mean, I could understand and respect indifference to them, but the rabid fury NKOTB can inspire in the guys who remember the mania is just adorable.

I learned how it is that fanatic types can get so damn crazy and emotional when it comes to celebrities. I loved me some New Kids when I was a little girl, but I never saw them in concert or anything. I was just as happy to listen to my cassette tape and moon over my picture of Joey. But being in a stadium with so many screaming fans, along with my nostalgia, well, it got to me. I finally felt that crazed hysteria fans feel, and I liked it.

I left my seat to go to the bathroom and eat a pretzel. When I got back, I was stunned to discover the boys had materialized on a small rotating stage fifty feet from us. The slightly-tempered-by-time-yet-still-cute visages of my little-girl fantasies were close enough for me to look in astonishment at my friends, all screaming and covered with a slight sheen of sweat, and feel the need to ... scream like a girl.

To know me is to know that I cannot get my voice much higher than that of a sick cow bellowing in pain. I do not shriek, although I would love so much to be able to attain that high-pitched squeal so many females boast. Yet, I tried so hard. I screamed over and over, "Joey, I love you, you are so cute, ohmigod!" Am I ashamed? No. Hoarse? Quite. To top it off, they braved the crowd, weaving through the screeching masses on the floor. Such bravery. So valiant.

I'm not going to bore you all with the details, since I really only have a handful of female readers, and most of them were at the show with me. But I will say this: I never understood the silliness of fandom. I really never understood why women screamed and got all goofy at concerts, etc. But now I do. Those guys put on a show and a half, trotted out all of their classic hits, played fun songs from their new album, did costume changes, and danced their tuchases off. Donny even changed up his bald-spot covering Boston Red Socks hats for our collective viewing pleasure.

They had lights. They had sound. They had smoke machines, shirtlessness and Jumbotrons. They had back up singers, dancers and a little stage at the back of the stadium so the rest of us maniacs could get a closer look at their adorableness. They put on a kick ass show, and I will tell any haters that it was pure fun. Period.

We all collectively agreed to go back in time. To a time when hair was big, make-up was bold and the New Kids on the Block were a culmination of white-boy-falsetto-pop-soul, well-choreographed dance moves, cute faces and a perfect storm of merch. When I was twelve, life was only as difficult as my next math quiz or managing to not blush when my crush walked by me in the halls. When I was twelve, Joey McIntyre smiled at me from inside my locker door between classes. When I was twelve, I loved the New Kids, but I didn't really understand what it meant to be a crazy girl fan.

It took me long enough, but I jumped in the Way Back Machine with thirty-thousand other women who were kind enough to show me the way. Now I know.

Who's Been Reading SWC?

My friend, Lady, brought this article to my attention. Thanks, Lady! Even more documentation of the crop of prostitots being cultivated all around us.

If the Bra Fits

Cruising the aisles of Target as I so often do, I stepped five paces past the diapers to the girls' section. What did I see?

Padded bras.

I stopped my cart and said, "Holy--" I almost finished that with, "fucking SHIT," but I saw a nice middle-aged lady who turned and looked at me. She turned her head to see why I was aghast.

"Oh, I know. It gets even worse. They sell thongs for little girls, too. Not here, I don't think, but they have them. Isn't it awful?"

Usually, my stomach doesn't churn like that when looking at items on display at Target. But as I reached out to feel the material of the tiny bra cup, surprised at the density of the padding, I shuddered. I felt a wave of sickness for not only the prepubescent girls who feel they need to appear chesty, but for the mothers who actually purchase padded bras for their little girls.

What the hell is going on?

Mitchell's boss, Cody, recently had an interesting discussion on his blog regarding an exclusive country club in Phoenix that has a men's only restaurant section. Cody's question was: Should the law legislate such a separate facility illegal? The discussion was certainly interesting, and I was the first woman to sound off on the topic.

My answer was No. The government shouldn't intervene because there are far more important gender issues to fight than whether or not rich women could have a steak with their husbands, or at all, in the restaurant. I was chastised by a few of the responders. Apparently, my answers weren't feminist enough. At first, I felt patronized and annoyed by their remarks, but after I regrouped and thought about why I answered the way I did, I realized I felt the same as I had before.

This is an example of a real battle worth fighting: making people ask why manufacturers and retail outlets would ever see fit to make lingerie whose sole purpose is to enhance a female's sexuality and then market it to children. Little girls. Making mothers ask themselves why they would ever agree to purchase items that make their daughters appear as though they had breasts when they hadn't even yet begun puberty.

Yes, I know: puberty is beginning sooner in girls. I've heard the news. I remember when JS developed boobs in third grade and had to wear a bra by fourth grade. That was a terrible time for that poor girl, but that's not my point. If you already have boobs as a little girl, then sure, you need a bra. But no child needs to accentuate what she doesn't already have for the purposes of looking older, more ripe.

Why do marketers feel the need to apply the "sex sells" theory to children? Why does a little girl need to feel less worthy and more unacceptable unless she has at least the illusion of a sexy body? What kind of parent wants their pre-teen child to exude sex appeal? These questions are at the root of gender issues and problems in our society.

I'm not going to say it's awful to be a female. I love being a woman, and I love being with other women (socially, not sexually, so quit pervin'. But, lesbians, you are all right with me, sisters). I will say, though, that the challenges that face young girls and grown women aren't getting better with time. The challenges have simply become more difficult to identify and define.

If it's ok to shill undergarments to enhance sex appeal to little girls, that indicates a fundamental problem with the way corporate America and American consumers view what females are supposed to be.

If it's ok to start poking at female body insecurity before puberty in order to increase sales, there is a fundamental problem with how females are viewed and how we view ourselves in this society.

If it's ok for girls to flaunt sex appeal before they can even truly understand its ramifications and consequences but NOT properly educate them about what sex is, there is a fundamental problem with the very weave of our society.

I had a great conversation with my friends one night about plastic surgery. We talked about some girls we know who had had "some work done" and we talked about my small-ass titties and what a drag it is trying to become ok with myself the way nature made me. They, like everyone, suggested I just get a boob-job if it's that important to me.

It's not.

It is far more important for me to try to overcome what the rest of the world sees as acceptable and desirable and love myself for who and what I am that it is for me to lie down, get gassed, and undergo a violent procedure so that guy over there will think, "Damn. Nice tits." Or so everyone will admire my rack, or so my husband will love me more.

Do I think it's wrong for other women to do it? Not at all.

But for the women who do alter themselves surgically to fit the profile of "perfect" or "sexy", are they going to look at their daughter's pleading eyes while they brandish little bras and thongs and give in because they understand the insecurities they feel? Or are they going to say, "No. That won't make you love yourself more."

My point is, I'm thirty-one years old. I've struggled my whole life to at least start loving myself for the way I was made, for who and what I am. I'm going to battle hard feelings toward myself for not being naturally tall, thin and curvy with perfect hair and teeth. I, like most other people, have good days and bad days where I accept myself as I am more or less. I'm old enough to think critically by now. I can see the difference between illusion and reality, and I know it's important to find a way to accept myself the way I am.

But what about tiny little girls who haven't even learned long division? They haven't even learned what a uterus IS, let alone what it does. And we promote their desire to mimic sexy women by masquerading their prepubescent, non-existent breasts with padded bras? And accentuate their asses in thong underwear?

How is that alright? And what are we going to do with this burgeoning generation of women who view themselves in the ways we're currently teaching them to? To me, this is a big deal. To me, this indicates that the girls who are up and coming in this society are going to be even more confused and self-hating that I was at that age, in junior high, in high school and college. In grad school, when I got married, when I became a mother ...

Do I think the law should legislate against designing sexy lingerie for children? People would have to notice and care before that even became an issue. While this topic is enough to raise my ire, I don't really see a whole lot of people caring about whether or not retail outlets sell kiddie lingerie. What I do think is important is to make other people aware of it. My part in that will be to tell everyone who will listen what I saw, why I think it's wrong and of the multitude of levels that it sickens me. And you can bet your sweet collective ass Target Corp. is getting a letter from yours truly.

This is a tumultuous time to be a female, especially a child or someone who doesn't care to think critically, and instead absorbs the messages fed to us by the media and perpetuated by people who either don't know that the messages are contradictory or are just plain wrong. While it appears that women today have power in education, the workforce, and in society in general, it also appears that we're still supposed to be ready to demonstrate our sex appeal by age seven. How far have we really come?

Who is going to teach little girls to develop their intellects and personalities, their "selves", which go far beyond how they look and how attractive they are, how close they can get to reaching the physical ideal. Who is going to teach and reinforce the apparently ridiculous and fantastical notion that they are so much more than tits and ass?