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304 pages, Kindle Edition
First published March 6, 2014
“we had consumed an awful lot of glossy trash over the years – glossy trash that had been telling us how to look, think and behave since we first left the local newsagent’s clutching a copy of Mizz in our sweaty little sherbet-covered fingers… As tweenagers, we graduated from the romance comics, spooky stories and ‘I kissed a boy during my first period, am I pregnant?’ problem pages in Shout, Mizz, Sugar or Jackie, dependent on your age, to those with a more mature demographic such as Just Seventeen (later rebranded as J-17). For our own generation, J-17 (which everyone knows you read when you were 13 and hid from your scandalised mother, lest she find the bit about 69ing) was the go-to magazine for sex advice, trading as it did primarily in information and revelations about boys in the same way that Jackie traded in romance and engagement stories in the 1970s. But these sorts of stories have a sell-by date, and by the time you’re a teenager, you’re being steered headlong into Cosmopolitan, Company and Grazia. An addiction that lasts a lifetime is born.”
Magazines are “always trying to ‘teach’ you how to dress for your shape by categorising you as an apple, a pear, or a sodding butternut squash (and that’s the polite ones – one issue of Jackie bluntly asked its readership ‘Are you a skinny, a normal, or a fatty?’)”.Then there are the the less obvious (to some men at least) expectations that no woman is immune from, as Hilary Mantel points out of Kate Middleton, who is “supposed to be ‘capable of going from perfect bride to perfect mother, with no messy deviation … without quirks, without oddities, without the risk of the emergency of character’ … Welcome to the twenty-first century.”
Gone are the days when celebrities were the only ones who had to worry about having their eating habits laid bare; ordinary civilians have to face the nutritionist's food-shaming too … Natasha, a lady with a healthy BMI of 21.3, was told to 'swap chocolates and biscuits for a raw bar', while Katie, a gym bunny … was told to ditch the biscuits in exchange for crudités and houmous, because she won't get pregnant unless she loses weight. Pages later, the reader was informed about mindful eating and instructed to eat like a calm person. How the hell can one eat like a calm person when the rules are constantly changing, thus placing you in an endless state of nutritional panic? Poor Katie probably read Mireille Guiliano's bestseller French Women Don't Get Fat and thought a little bit of chocolate was OK, but now she’s being told by some twat in a national magazine that she's basically a pig in knickers, and a barren one at that. Where do these people get off?
It's not often that women's magazines concern themselves with your career, but when they do, they're pretty sure that it all starts with granola. ‘I begin the day at 5 a.m., with a spot of Bikram yoga', the standard life in a day article will read. 'After that, I really need to set myself up for a hard day in air traffic control, so I make sure that I boil my semi-skimmed milk to exactly 35 degrees - the optimum temperature to complement my home-made multigrain porridge. I go out and do a bit of redirecting aeroplanes, which is stressful but I'm dressed for success. At midday, we eat jacket potatoes, which I know that I can work off at my 5k jogging class round Hyde Park in the evening. If I didn't look the part, then nobody in this male-dominated environment would respect me.’
'Some days, there might be an unexpected occurrence; for instance, a plane crashes on to the runway, engulfed in a huge, searing fireball. I slip off my court shoes, don pumps, and get stuck in, clawing through the wreckage for possible survivors. My flotation therapy might have to be rescheduled on a day like that, if I really want to be home to pick up my two beautiful children from Gifted and Talented class by five. I don't beat myself up about it - after all, what's really important now is the precious "me time" I get while moulding my greenhouse-grown organic chickpeas into falafels for dinner.’