I have a secret addiction, and I'm finally ready to 'fess up to it, here in front of the whole world. (Or at least the few people who read my blog.) Here it is: I love America's Next Top Model. It's the only reality show I watch--I think reality tv, in general and including Top Model, is complete dreck. I'm embarrassed to admit to it, but I just can't help it. Please don't tell anyone; I promise to get help.
The thing is, it's so, so empowering. Basically, you've got a bunch of tall, thin, beautiful young women all living together in a little apartment, sharing bedrooms and couches and showers. It's pretty much your typical porno fantasy land. (There was a recent episode where they all put on teeny weeny bikinis and got into a very small bubble bath together.)
And they're all extremely beautiful and thin...and miserable. They cry in every episode. They go through humiliating scenes of measuring the width of their thighs or staring at their pores in the mirror. They eat low-carb brownies and sigh over how many calories ketchup has. I watch them and I think, "Ha! You stupid, pretty girl! My mother was right--being beautiful doesn't make you happy!" I know, it's anti-feminist to laugh at them and make fun of them. Undoubtedly I should be sending them e-mails via UPN's website and recommending that they meditate and read Saving Ophelia, but really, fuck it. They need to grow up and get a life. Sorry, girls, you might be pretty, but you aren't women yet.