My Hypocrisy.

I enjoy flicking through copies of Vogue, Elle and Vanity Fair and bitching at how these magazines all portray evil messages about how a woman should look. Tall, bronzed, skinny and flawless. Fundamental components to be regarded as "beautiful". And yes, I cannot deny that these women in their bizarre abstract coloured designer clothes and odd retro, oh-so-out-there haircuts, are not beautiful. Because they are. And they pull off awful haircuts, strange clothes and OTT make up so well. It's rather painful to see a gorgeous model lounge around in her underwear adverstising perfume with prefectly applied make up to give the natural-I-really-do-look-like-this-and-I'm-not-wearing-any-make-up-look. Sigh.

We all do it. We tell ourselves no woman actually looks like that. It's just the work of evil make-up artists. However, thats just bull. Some women actually do look like that. The effortless, casually coiffed hair that was the actual result of 'just getting out of bed', the casual choice of a simple vest and jeans which manages to look so fabulously casual. No, they haven't been made up to look like that. They actually look that good.

So, we tell ourselves that 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder'. Christina told us we were all beautiful. But thats all bull too. Just a way to make the ugly feel good about themselves. Those who say everyone is beautiful inside are lying. No one is beautiful inside- whoever said they were clearly didn't see the actual inside of a human being. So, some retaliate and bask in uglyness. We adopt a I-don't-really-give-a-toss attitude, listen to loud angry, empowering rock music and think 'what the hell'. But...we do give a toss. Thats the worst part of it.

I may bitch and criticise Vogue, but it doesn't stop me obsessively flicking through the pages, in awe at the colour, the beauty. I claim not to care about appearance. But I do. I do check the mirror every morning, frantically checking if I've broken out in a hundred spots overnight, if I have creasemarks on my face. I don't care. Honest. But I do. Whilst I may pretend other stuff matters, my bad skin, hair and teeth are always there niggling away in the back of my mind. Thats the hypocrisy of it all. I do care.

My First Blog.

I've finally jumped onto the blogging bandwagon. Perhaps it's because I feel a stronge urge to procrastinate, to whinge relentlessly about how tough life is, or perhaps because I have nothing better to do on a Saturday night...well it was either start a blog or to continue reading Tess of the D'urbervilles...

To be honest, I actually don't know why I'm typing all of this drivel, it's not like anyone will actually read this. However, it is quite hard to stop. Kind of like Facebook. Rather pointless, but we all keep going onto it every five minutes, returning a poke, putting up new pics, friend whoring, anything to keep the attention on numero uno. Thats kind of what blogs are really. A 'look-at-me-read-my-crap-make-comments-cause-you-all-really-care-about-what-I-think' kind of thing. Well haha. This is actually kind of fun. I can't seem to stop my fingers from pouring all this drivel onto this page whilst bopping along to the JONAS BROTHERS. hell yes. Toodles.