Yesterday, Jezebel posted a piece about the preview of V Magazine's spread featuring plus-sized models. It's V's "size issue." (Note: nekkid boobies on Day 3, if you're into that kind of thing.)
The comments on Jezebel's post are mostly all glowing -- so many women who looked at those photos and thought, "Dammit, I'm hot, too." That is awesome.
I thought I might feel that way, too. But I did not. Because, although these women look a lot like me, body-wise, they're still absolutely fucking beautiful. They would be beautiful without having their cellulite and zits Photoshopped away. They'd still be beautiful without an army of makeup artists, hair stylists and lighting technicians.
And therein lies the problem. I'm not funny-looking, nor am I a monster. But I'm not pretty; most certainly not beautiful. So, despite the fact that there are these hot-ass bitches whose bodies look kinda like mine (except, of course, I'm still not shaped right ... fucking apple-shaped body), they still make me feel like shit because they're still an impossible standard of beauty.
Lovely. Or, you know, not.