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     '                                                                  '
    '   anada                "Cosmo is the Devil"                23 jan  '
   '     267                  by MechanicalBride                  2001    '
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        She had all the answers.  She knew exactly what to say and exactly
 what to do at all the right times.  She had advice on relationships--how to
 get one, keep one, and keep it ‘healthy’.  She warned me about weird men,
 bad fashion choices, and important career moves.  She wanted to teach me how
 to be a ‘fun fearless female’.  She embodied everything a woman should be.
 YM, Seventeen, Glamour & Mademoiselle tried, but were only her brunette
 toadies.

        It was Cosmo who guided the teenage girl army into their futures of
 great accessories, one night stands, and top rung parties of the social
 ladder.  It was Cosmo whose glossy pages my young friends and I stared
 desperately into for some sort of key or trick to making our budding
 ‘femaleness’ a little bit easier.  It was Cosmo who encouraged us to have
 ‘girl power’, but that it might be a little bit easier to get our point
 across in a miniskirt.  It was Cosmo who helped us stay ‘fresh & sexy’ while
 landing a man, scoring a promotion, and getting a great deal on leather
 pants all in one day.  It was Cosmo who helped us develop interesting,
 exciting personalities so that we might have something intelligent to talk
 about with that tall dark someone.

        It was Cosmo who designed the perfect outfit, attitude, man & mantra
 for today’s woman.  It was Cosmo that knew ‘my man’s’ ‘hot spots’ and
 directed me towards a perfect execution.  It was Cosmo that weighed the pros
 & cons of plastic surgery for us.  It was Cosmo who reminded us gently that
 with their monthly do-it-yourself makeovers we can bring out our true, hot
 selves with just a little honey, oatmeal, and duct tape.  It was Cosmo that
 helped me choose that ‘perfect scent’ to match my personality.

        It was Cosmo who laid at my 14 year old feet as I stared into the
 mirror with disgust.  It was Cosmo who was there for my friend Marie in 11th
 grade while she threw up her dinner.  It was Cosmo who sat at the bottom of
 Anna’s locker to remind her between classes that the reason she didn’t have
 a date for the prom was because she needed to highlight her hair or lose 40
 pounds or take interest in a new hobby.  It was Cosmo’s airbrushed
 perfection and Gucci waifs that fed Sarah’s depression and Jessica’s breast
 enlargement and Lindsey’s calorie-counting obsession.

        It was 1998 when I realized how much damage this 300 paged shiny book
 of instant inadequacy was having on me and almost every other girl in this
 country.  You can have dark roots with blond hair if you want.  You can date
 a guy who doesn’t rake in more money than you.  You can wear orange
 eyeshadow.  You don’t have to max your credit cards trying to keep up with
 'what's hot’.  You can call a guy the day after a date.  You can be 190
 pounds and be happy.  You can age to 30 without having to worry about
 finding a husband.  You don’t have to have kids.  You can eat half a gallon
 of ice cream without feeling guilty.  You can stay home on Friday nights if
 you want.  You don’t have to wear brand names.  You can drink regular Pepsi 
 instead of Diet.  You can be loved if even you don’t have a B/C/D cup or abs
 of steel.  You can go to the store and not have to feel like shit because
 you’re standing next to a magazine rack of Pamela Anderson covers.

        There's only one thing you can’t do, and that is read Cosmo.  Not
 even for the ‘interesting articles’.  It’s the devil, and there's nothing
 the devil loves more than a bunch of ‘fun, faceless females’ who can’t think
 for themselves.

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  '                                                                        ' 
 `   anada267   by MechanicalBride                  (c) 2001 anada e'zine   `
