Seventeen Magazine

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I sat down to dinner a while ago and, finding nothing of interest on TV, turned instead to the nearest form of printed entertainment within reach — an issue of Seventeen Magazine. Yugh. I don’t know about you people, but if I were bombarded with that kind of vapid, fleshly drivel on a regular basis, I’m pretty sure I would grow up with a pretty twisted worldview and self-image. One can only take so many pages of Rate-Your-Boy quizzes, lipstick and sunglasses, and lithe, nubile teenage bodies in bikinis making out in drunken passion with their [multiple] college boyfriends.

Fortunately I checked the telly again after setting the magazine aside, and King of the Hill was showing. It was certainly a relief to watch something more intelligent. Like, yeah, totally.

(Did I just use the word “telly?”)

Comments

  1. reggie says:
    2002-04-28 at 10:15

    i buy seventeen once in a while, when i’m bored and in need of shallow fun. i read the mag like, once, twice, and then i cut it up. the magazine’s colorful text, visuals, and cartoons make great scrapbook and photoalbum add-ons! i have a small box full out cut-outs from seventeen and YM (another teen magazine, much like seventeen), just in case i need some “space-fillers” in my scrapbook †

  2. Wyclif says:
    2002-04-28 at 17:26

    You’re scaring me, Reggie. On a side note, Americans usually don’t say “telly.” That bit of slang usually emanates from the lips of Brits or Aussies.

  3. Raffy says:
    2002-04-29 at 04:19

    Seventeen magazine has always been, like you know, vapid and materialistic. Taking a cue from that female psyche client in the movie “Mumford”:

    “I look at those people in those ads in the magazines and wonder, ‘Do they live in their own little world where everything is perfect and nice and cute and happy?’ Is there some separate place aside from ours where they live?”

    My sisters used to keep stacks of the mag around when I was a kid (I recall Milla Jovovich’s first ever cover at the age of 12). It really was nothing more than a “like you know” experience with shiny, happy teens basking on beaches next to ads for fat camps at La Jolla.