March 14th, 2008
Who remembers reading the original Sweet Valley High paperback series?

In the first chapter of every book there was a quick recap/rundown on Elizabeth and Jessica and their family, including physical descriptions of them, many reprinted nearly verbatim from previous books in the series. The twins are described as golden-haired, blue-eyed and being "perfect" size 6s (note that last). As we all know, youth are highly impressionable, and these past 20 years I've been carrying size 6 in my subconscious as an ideal -- only recently have I actually become conscious of its origin.
What's interesting is that I now wear a size 6, but I don't feel "perfect." I feel mostly healthy, perhaps with a few unwanted bits of pudge I try vainly to conceal, but not remotely perfect. Ignoring the arguments against defining perfection in women's body shapes and sizes, which is a whole other debate, here's what I'm wondering now:
Were those bits intentionally thrown into the books to provide teenage girls with a healthier standard? Clever.
Or were teenagers actually pleased as punch to be a size 6 in the mid-1980s? If that's the case, comparing them with today's fashion-conscious teenagers and, indeed, most young actresses (both of whom make me feel slightly ill), things have changed.
[I disliked having to use arbitrary terms like perfect, standard and ideal in this post, but I couldn't find a way to avoid it.]

In the first chapter of every book there was a quick recap/rundown on Elizabeth and Jessica and their family, including physical descriptions of them, many reprinted nearly verbatim from previous books in the series. The twins are described as golden-haired, blue-eyed and being "perfect" size 6s (note that last). As we all know, youth are highly impressionable, and these past 20 years I've been carrying size 6 in my subconscious as an ideal -- only recently have I actually become conscious of its origin.
What's interesting is that I now wear a size 6, but I don't feel "perfect." I feel mostly healthy, perhaps with a few unwanted bits of pudge I try vainly to conceal, but not remotely perfect. Ignoring the arguments against defining perfection in women's body shapes and sizes, which is a whole other debate, here's what I'm wondering now:
Were those bits intentionally thrown into the books to provide teenage girls with a healthier standard? Clever.
Or were teenagers actually pleased as punch to be a size 6 in the mid-1980s? If that's the case, comparing them with today's fashion-conscious teenagers and, indeed, most young actresses (both of whom make me feel slightly ill), things have changed.
[I disliked having to use arbitrary terms like perfect, standard and ideal in this post, but I couldn't find a way to avoid it.]
- Mood:
thoughtful