I do yoga 3 times a week.
Good for you. You're 47.
I wear denim minis
and wedges. I shop in Topshop.
But you're 47.
I am a mother of 2 but I
want the body I had
But you're 47. And you have two children.
I will be 50 in 3 years time.
Yes, we know.
I am obsessed by age.
Yes, we know.
But admit it. aren't you too?
Well not really. And what's more, we really don't think you should be either. Christa, you look fantastic. You are 47 years of age and you are stunning. We looked at the woman in the photo on the cover and we saw an attractive middle-aged woman. That's what you are. And that does not mean you have failed.
"Indeed, if you were to look at the photograph on the previous page and tell me you see an attractive middle-aged woman (for that technically is what I am at 46) I'd not be merely insulted, I'd feel, on some level, that I had failed."
(Oops. But is someone fibbing about their age again?)
Christa you are not only attractive, you are extremely successful. But - and we say this with not only your best interests at heart, but personal experience too - you are psychotic. We are not psychiatrists (and would kill ourselves out of duty if we were) but body dysmorphia would probably be the diagnosis. This article is celebrating and justifying mental illness. And not in a good way. You are 47 years old. You cannot have the appearance of a 23 year old any more than you can turn a Netto bag into Prada.
We really aren't in the habit of attacking people for their mental health problems (although dolly has been known to attack herself), so we are not going to condemn or criticise you for the way you feel. But please don't try to normalise this delusion. Don't tell us that it is OK to want to feel like this:
"where one cannot seem to pick up a newspaper or magazine without reading about some granny who has just been vaginally rejuvenated, and where, furthermore, every aspect of life, including politics, is beginning to feel more and more virtual, the decision of a fortyplusser to dress like Peaches Geldof isn't so much a decision she makes as a cultural imperative that has been imposed on her. Be the schlumpy granny at the school gates whom none of the other dads fancy by all means, but only if you don't mind being perceived as something of a freak, or at a socioeconomic disadvantage."
A cultural imperative imposed on her? Imposed on her by whom exactly? By magazines like OWM and Vogue, you crazy, beautiful wingbat. You've just swallowed your own tail. The feeling you describe is called 'gagging.'
So lets talk instead about who, at OWM, decided that 'we all' feel like this and commissioned this exploitative, voyeuristic poison?
Who is this Observer Woman who does yoga 3 times a week, shops at Topshop and is obsessed by age? While we're about it, who is the 'we' in 'We know it's common but we love it anyway'? When you say 'Everybody' is park benching (In Manchester we call it dogging) or customising our dialling tones, who do you mean exactly?
The last time we checked, 'we' don't all live in Notting Hill and surround ourselves with media workers. Last time we looked there were women living and even working in places like Doncaster. And Birmingham. And you know what? Quite a few of them read the Observer. If you caught a train from Euston you might meet some of them. They won't bite.
You're a fashion magazine and we know the game. One percent inspiration and 99% aspiration, but that is no excuse. Just once or twice, at least acknowledge that not all your readers live your insipid, vacuous, cynical (where are the organic T-shirts this month, eh?), superfluous, spoiled, priviliged lives.
Maybe we're just bitter. Or more likely it's not us, it's you.