Women hate eachother. That's quite obvious. From Brooke Magnanti standing up to the feminists who seek to lay her low to Scarlett Johansson's publicist's need to deny pregnancy rumours based on an unflattering photo of the actress out running, women seem to be on a constant mission to get one over each other, and to be as good as we think the other is.
I count the calories on my lunch. I come home starving and guilt myself out of eating. I loathe what I see in the mirror.
How is this in any way constructive? How is us defending Scarlett's rounded belly, whether she has one or not, a positive influence on how we see ourselves? A writer saying that a pot belly is nothing to be ashamed of and is womanly does little to change the fact that there is such an animal as a pot-bellied pig.
Scarlett is beautiful. Brooke is a feminist. Scarlett has a pot belly. Brooke is anti-feminist. All are true. All are perspective. And with the ridiculous battle-lines we've drawn in our quest to accept ourselves, all are totally meaningless.