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Is it just me, or has Vogue become all-together unrelatable? Case in point: in its April edition with Renee Zellweger as its covergirl, there is an article about a woman who suffers through her days with only a personal trainer, masseuse and bikini waxer. Where is her personal assistant or ever-ready towncar? Oh, the travesty of it all! Oh, the relatability of it all to my own middle class, working girl life! As the topics of these shallow articles began nauseating me, I decided to just look at the fashion spreads. Nothing like pretty pictures to make a girl escape into a Cinderella-like existence. Sadly enough, I was met with avante-garde, abstract photos of bits and pieces of what I suppose were a woman's clothed, made-up anatomy. Where is the voyeurism Vogue once provided? The images I see and the words I read in the current issues do not depict a life I aspire to live. I guess I'll have to make do with Martha Stewart Living and People. Last time I checked, I was still aspiring to be perfect and well-lit. Go To Page: 1
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