As I entered the line at the Target checkout counter, I finally put my finger on what is most disturbing about the visual assault of too-perfect scantily clad women popping out from magazine covers.
These magazine show women with flawless figures, glistening with spray on their bared chests, shimmering hair floating from the fans turned up at them, full lips pursed, eyes seductively turned, inviting the wanting stares of passerbys. Surrounding their tiny waists and shapely hips are “Sex tips,” “Instant Sexiness,” “The best sex you’ve ever had,” distracting us from our mundane existence with the exotic and erotic.
Now let me pause to mention that the female body is the most beautiful of God’s creation, with no challenger that is remotely close. And the celebration of that in a respectful way is a beautiful thing.
But the only thing these magazines celebrate is the unholy god of our culture’s sexual lust. A base sexuality, one that uses and discards like an empty pizza box. One that celebrates a woman’s body parts at the expense of her self-esteem, at the cost of her soul.
I do not place blame on them as if they are inherently evil, and we are passive recepients to the message. Rather I see a nation who does not see the components of a healthy psyche. The cost, I fear, is a generation of young girls who increasingly turn to destructive patterns such as eating disorders in a desparate attempt to achieve an unreachable image.
Each of them, to me, is a shrine to an unholy god.