Remember that time when I blogged about how the internet is destroying our attention spans? Well, I have to admit that as of late due to a hectic temporary work lifestyle, I've been a sucker for 'soft reading' i.e. reading an everlasting supply of popular culture magazines. Look, Grazia, Marie Claire, you name it I'm most probably reading it.
In my house we have three bathrooms and in each and every bathroom there's a stash of my mother's magazines. They have become the toilet-reading-types as far as I'm concerned. I always laugh at my mother's choice in magazines because I can predict, far too accurately, who will be on the cover each week. For the record it's only ever a choice of a Loose Woman, Holly Willoughby or Phillip Schofield. Richard and Judy used to feature a lot in past times, but I guess they just aren't selling as well anymore. So that's the front cover sorted. The insides are predictably familiar each week too... who's wearing what outfit best, the usual cleaning tips, a shocking story and then... well, a topic which seems to saturate not only every magazine my mother buys, but also every magazine I purchase too. Diets.
I'm the girl who has grown up her whole life surrounded by the media. Ever since I can remember I've been surrounded by perfected images of immaculate beauty and a barbie doll body. Unlike most women, I wouldn't say I'm anti this situation, I guess I am just more aware of what I eat and what I do. Thank you, media, for putting that voice in my head which tells me I really shouldn't have one more bite of that chocolate bar.