Not-So-Brave Old World: Pseudo-feminism for the semi-intelligent

Disappointment du jour:
This morning I caught a minute or so of "Good Morning America" while I was putting on my shoes. Why only a minute? Because it doesn't take me that long to tie my shoes. (I'll take a moment out to thank my parents for giving me that handy skill so many years ago. Still use it to this day.) The fact that I came from the bedroom to the living room fully dressed save for footwear, with a pressing need to get out of the house so I wouldn't miss my train, and turned on the TV for just that brief period while I slid the shoes on and tied the laces no doubt indicates an unhealthy relationship on my part with that device. However, for a quaint change of pace, we're not going to explore my neurotic quirks but those of (as best I can tell) roughly half the population of the Westernized world.

The TV came on tuned to ABC and I merely didn't change the channel. The segment already in progress was one of those puff pieces where they get a bunch of models to showcase the upcoming swimwear fashions. As best I can tell this is commonplace for the morning shows; I'm sure it's not difficult to get designers and/or retailers to agree to what is essentially free advertising pretending to be journalism. (Okay, to be fair, all fashion and entertainment journalism is free advertising, not just these pieces. I'm not complaining; just identifying a shovel-like suit in a deck of cards as a shovel-like suit in a deck of cards.) The "twist" in this one, as far as I could tell, was that rather than recommending swimsuits that complement with a woman's body shape they were suggesting particular fashions worked with a woman's astrological sign (apparently as an indication of her personality and therefore willingness to show a greater or lesser amount of skin). And while that is ripe for comment, that's not where I'm going with this.

The piece was hosted by Diane Sawyer (not sure whether she normally does GMA) and some woman who was introducing the models (not by name but by which sign they represented) and explaining how the fashions related to the theme. (I know—you're wondering how I was able to continue with my shoe business with this sort of fascinating spectacle on screen.) The models were all, of course, young and thin. That's what the models who do a morning talk program have going for them; they may not be stunningly gorgeous, but they're young and thin. With the last one featured, the model was in a bikini (I don't recall which sign was spotlighted—I must have been tying the laces at that point), and the announcing woman threw in a remark about the model's flat stomach (presumably as a helpful body attribute to pull off wearing such a suit, whatever one's sign). With the segment coming to a close, Diane Sawyer thanked the announcer woman and all the models for coming. However, just before segueing to commercial, she muttered a comment about wishing she had a flat stomach like the last model, and she sounded completely sincere.

Well, of course being an accomplished journalist who appears regularly on national (international) television programs is clearly less worthy of coveting than is having shapely abs when you're not even old enough to get in to bars.

Disappointment level 1: I suspect women reading this reacted to the above first with an identification with Diane's stated desire for the lithe figure, and then with a sense of defensiveness, feeling that casting on TV journalism is unfairly skewed toward the young and pretty, and that the only way for women to stay viable is to continue to look young and pretty.

They undoubtedly would argue that Diane wasn't serious, and I fully concede she was not contemplating trading in her career to acquire such a physical attribute. I am not removing all context from the situation. She is an intelligent, successful woman, and the model is some nameless flat stomach who appeared on screen mere seconds. While that's all true, and I agree completely, she still felt compelled to utter that envious thought aloud while they were on the air. I can't help but think the motivation for that, if only on an unconscious level, stemmed from the belief that it was what a lot of the female viewers were thinking.

Disappointment level 2: I guess I would hope that a woman who will turn 60 this year and still looks fantastic and who has led a life much more enviable (in my opinion) than anyone who makes a living from lucky genetics would have gotten over the shallow standards women have been brainwashed to believe they should maintain. I don't know; perhaps the show of vulnerability makes her more appealing to the women, as some indication that she suffers the same way they do.

Disappointment level 3: The women reading this will dismiss everything I said complimenting Ms. Sawyer's accomplishments and mental prowess because I'm a guy, and therefore the only reason I could possibly have been watching the segment for the aforementioned minute would be prurient interest in the semi-clothed bodies of the models. I must be rabidly attracted to young flesh. That's all I could possibly desire in a woman: nubile naiveté. That's the only aspect of a female that could hold my attention: looks.

Disappointment level 4: This is directed toward myself. I pushed it a bit too far with the sarcasm in the last paragraph. I should have been able to make the point without being so obvious.

Disappointment level 5: For some reason, I hadn't lowered my expectations for this society where there's people out there who are putting the airhead bimbos in front of the teleprompters (perpetuating the whole cycle), and where the public seems to think that's how it should be.

I've stopped flipping through channels plenty of times because a pretty face was on the screen, but I've only left it there if there was smarts and personality to go along with it. Or, I suppose, if I were occupied with tying my shoes.

(And now you're disappointed this didn't have the typical self-deprecating twist at the end.)