I heard about it before I saw it. I judged to before I even knew exactly what “it” was. I was surprised and grateful when I studied it and, after some time, figured out what all the hoopla was about.
Cindy Crawford’s stomach.
I thought I had plenty to worry about looking at my own. I see my untouched, non-photoshopped tummy every day. The one that gave birth to three children, the one that shrinks and grows with a will of its own. The same one I compare against other women of the world and judge harshly for its inability to look like it did twenty-five years ago.
Magazines and models have not only sold us whatever products they peddle but also the insecurity to use them. We can’t look like them in or out of those outfits.
Or so we thought. Enter a real life picture of Cindy Crawford. Thank God! I’m normal.
So are a lot of other women out there who thought there must be something wrong with them that time has had its toll on their bodies while completely ignoring the super-models of the world.
I wish that all magazines would just do away with photo-shop. It’s one of the most dangerous things ever created. It plays with the minds of some of the most secure women I know and certainly with the still forming sense of self of countless teenage girls.
It has gotten better. In movies playing recently celebrities such as Reese Witherspoon and Jennifer Aniston have been seen much more natural looking. Women of all shapes and sizes are appearing on television with more regularity and less disapproval.
Still, super models are different simply because they are super models. It is relieving to know that under the beautiful clothes they are real.
Real and beautiful. Because make no mistake. Real is beautiful.