Guys, I have a confession to make.
I’m obsessed with Victoria’s Secret Angels.
It’s a pretty big confession for me, considering my huge stance on body positivity and loving yourself and all that. But I just can’t stop staring at them. I know their names and their hometowns, and I’ll be the first to admit that my obsession is a little disturbing. So it should go without saying that I’m probably more excited for the 2014 Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show than most men or women.
Because of my obsession, I will be tuning in to the fashion show when it airs on Dec. 9 (and the entire week after the actual event, unfortunately). I will watch Karlie Kloss and Candice Swanepoel and Alessandra Ambrosio walk the runway, and I’ll watch Taylor Swift perform, and then I’ll probably check my Active Minutes on my Fitbit app and regret whatever I ate for dinner that day. And then I’ll probably make my roommate pinky-swear that we will go to the gym tomorrow.
So why do I torture myself like that? Why do I, the girl with the history of food-related mental-health issues and a fierce defender of body positivity, look forward to this show every single year?
Is it because I like torturing myself? I know I’ll never look like ex-Angel Miranda Kerr (who I have an embarrassingly strong girl-crush on) because I don’t have the time or the energy or frankly the genes to look like that.
And I know that these girls get paid to look good. While I work two jobs and go to school full-time, they’re at the gym 4 hours a day. While I try to find the time and energy to cook a semi-healthy dinner after getting home at 10 p.m. on a Wednesday night, they go to bed at 9 p.m. after a healthy, reasonably-portioned meal that they could afford to have delivered fresh to their door.
Their lives revolve around maintaining a fit body and perfect skin and hair. Their careers depend on it. Mine does not and hopefully never will. I get that, really, I do. And I even understand that their specific type of beauty is not the only type of beauty, and that all weights and sizes are beautiful. I truly believe that, too.
But that doesn’t stop me from looking at my thighs in the mirror and weighing myself after I watch the show. I know it’s bad for me. I know it’s triggering for someone with food-related issues like me. I know I shouldn’t watch it. But why can’t I turn away? Do I secretly like feeling insecure? Or is it because they represent the epitome of beauty and I’m fascinated?
There’s this thing called the “halo effect,” which, in layman’s terms, is when someone who is beautiful is seen to be perfect or to “have it all” based on his or her looks. The Angels embody the halo effect. Their lives probably aren’t perfect (except for Behati Prinsloo’s, because she just married Adam Levine, and that just isn’t fair). But I can’t stop staring at these girls. And I know I’m not the only girl who thinks, “Hey, maybe if I looked like a Victoria’s Secret model, maybe my life would be easier,” even though we have no idea if that’s true or not.
I probably shouldn’t watch the Fashion Show this year. It’s not good for my self-esteem. It’s triggering. They don’t include all body types. It perpetuates the idea of only one definition of beautiful, and I’m probably promoting sexism by watching it.
But I will probably still let the media control me when I tune in next Tuesday, if only to watch Ed Sheeran and Taylor Swift perform. But hey, as long as I’m admitting to letting the media control me, it’s not as bad, right?
_Right?_