Dear Fashion World

I don't understand you.  I don't understand what makes high-end fashion fashionable; nor will I ever understand what makes clearly malnourished women, with bodies resembling that of a 10 year old boy's, beautiful to you.

As I planted my (don't gasp too loudly) size 6 ass, which I should mention rests on a 5'1" frame, in my chair this morning, my boss handed me this:

She didn't stick around long enough to notice the puzzled look on my face as my brain tried to process the image before me.  It took several seconds and a rather prolonged blank stare before it registered that I was looking at a woman with literally no breast tissue.  I wondered if this was merely a fucked up case of photo-shopping a woman's head on a little boy's body (which is creepy no matter how you look at it); or maybe my eyes were just messing with me since I hadn't infused my veins with caffeine yet.  Even as I blog, I can't help but feel a little pervy because my eyes have a tendency to notice the child-like nipples on the cover of this fashion magazine.  I also can't help but feel saddened by the fact that this is what the delusional fashion world deems a "model," which by one definition is 'a standard or example for imitation or comparison.'  If this is a standard for imitation or comparison, there should be no question as to why young girls and even women have such skewed ideals for their bodies.


I'm off to eat something, anything really, because that's all this magazine motivates me to do.