Cosmo and Stuff

I got my hair done last weekend, and with every haircut comes a new Cosmo magazine.  I buy one because my hair appointments are long and I need something to read.  I don’t bring books because I don’t want falling hair getting trapped between pages.  That’s, like, gross and stuff.  

Cosmo is a standard women’s magazine that contains articles about “new” sex techniques that aren’t really new and common sense relationship “wisdom” (i.e. don’t talk about your ideal wedding on a first date).  It’s also less about empowerment and more about fulfilling social obligations (having minimal to no body fat, buying fashionable clothes for the gym, being a key player in work “projects,” etc).  

The magazine assumes its readers are high-income, business-savvy hot chicks with big-dicked boyfriends and downtown condos.  No fat married ladies with kids or  20-somethings with shitty part-time jobs and sexless, martini-free weekends.  

Anyways, one article was about losing seven pounds in seven days without radically altering your diet.  

I’m not a doctor or nutritionist or personal trainer hired for my hot, muscular physique, but I know that you can’t lose seven pounds in a week without radically altering something.  Sure enough, the diet requires women to cut out carbs, sodium and sugar for one week and rely solely on small portions of grilled chicken and plain vegetables.  Also, the dieter must do 30 minutes of “hard” cardio each day and have a half hour of vigorous woman-on-top sex each night.  

Perhaps I’m ignorant or unlucky, but I don’t think 30 minutes of nightly sex is feasible.  Also, a half hour of uninterrupted bouncing is unrealistic.  

Well, it is for me, anyways.  I get tired easily, and I don’t like it when my leg muscles ache.  Also, constant thrusting can get tedious for both partners.  And really, how much calories does flexing your thighs really burn? 90? 100? 150, maybe? That’s less than a Weight Watchers whole-grain bagel.  It’s even less than one medium-sized oatmeal raison cookie.  

To be fair, I guess people on the quick-fix Cosmo diet shouldn’t be eating cookies anyways.  

The point I’m trying to make, I think, is that the article is telling readers how to shed water weight in preparation for a big event (wedding, birthday party, a night out at Boston Pizza with friends they haven’t seen in 6 to 8 months).  What the piece doesn’t take into account is that the minute the woman consumes a beer/pizza slice/fry/crouton, all of that water weight comes back and leads to bloating and vicious gas pains.  

I’ve done mild crash diets like that, and nothing ruins the feel-good vibe of super self-control like renegade air ricocheting around your large and small intestines.  It’s both awkward and painful, and forces you to make funny expressions that puzzle other partygoers.  

The next morning you’re 10 pounds heavier and 30 times more  depressed than you were when Cosmo first called you fat and told you to reward yourself for a hard day’s work as a partner in your prestigious law firm or PR agency by eating a low-fat, gluten-free cupcake with the icing scraped off.  

You want to lose a few? More vegetables and less treats.  Oh, and a few long walks and a run here and there.  Don’t hunt down a partner for 30 minutes of work-filled, unsatisfying nightly intercourse had solely to tone your ass.  An ass that, God willing, won’t be seen by fellow party guests anyways.  

I’d rather have random mid-morning sex that has nothing to do with shaping my gluts, and I don’t believe in fat-free cupcakes. Treats aren’t supposed to be healthy, that’s why they’re treats.  If you’re that concerned about losing weight, end your awesome day at your awesome downtown office with an awesome slice of cucumber.

“Kinky” Stats.

I don’t read magazines.  I used to, back when I craved light and superficial reading material and lacked Internet access.  Now, magazines are for dentists appointments and, I’ll admit it, bathroom breaks.

This past Saturday, however, I needed something mindless and glossy to entertain myself with during an extended hair appointment (I’ve never had one conclude at anything under the two hour mark).  Feeling indulgent, I picked up a Cosmo. 

I dislike Cosmopolitan magazine, I really do.  It’s a frivolous rag that replicates the same material every month under varying headlines.  It offers advice that is, at best, worthless.  At worst, dangerous.  Each and every article dedicated to helping readers enhance their sex life (Cosmo is a profoundly depressing read for the young, single, and involuntarily celibate crowd) simply advises women to grip a man’s testicles and pull them – hard –  away from his body right before he comes. 

I don’t know if that always goes over as well as Cosmo thinks it does.  Personally, unless asked, I’d never yank the boys in an unnatural direction to “enhance ‘our’ sexual experience.” 

You can’t provide “one size fits all” sex advice.  That’s why I loathe the “this position – and this position only – will get you off in 30 seconds” stories.  If there was a magical position that worked orgasmic wonders for every woman, no woman would ever have any need for a boring rag like Cosmo.  Yet it still flies off the shelves each and every month – and not for its insights on fashion and celebrities.

However, Cosmo headlines are cleverly salacious, and therefore intriguing.  I was intrigued by “The Shocking Thing 48% of Women do in Bed” headline. 

What was it? I wondered.

The article in question was a collection of “kinky” statistics that showcased the erotic proclivities of Cosmo readers.

Cosmois all about encouraging readers to be daring and sex-positive, so I expected to find a decent listing of illicit activities – all paired with percentages suggesting high participation rates, of course.  Imagine my surprise when the daring modern woman’s magazine showed that a mere 20-40% of readers engaged in mutual masturbation, bondage-play and anal sex. 

Ever since anal began sweeping the porn world several years ago, it’s become the new oral.  What once elicited gasps and shrieks and dropped-jaws is pretty low on the list of shocking sexual taboos.  Really, you need to reach pretty far to genuinely shock people these days. 

A penis in an asshole? Not that shocking.  It’s not even considered an exclusively ”gay” practice anymore.  It’s simply a new hole to play with.  Some like it, some don’t – much like any erotic activity.  Even if a sizable number of people haven’t made it a regular part of their coital repertoire, surely most have toyed with the possibility of incorporating that orifice into, at the very least, foreplay.

Cosmo, the magazine that encourages women to expand their sexual horizons, boasts of a very average, non-experimental reader demographic.  It looks like it’s mostly plain old missionary/cowgirl/doggy-style for fun, fearless Cosmo girls.

Other genuinely “alternative” publications actually ask their readers questions about traditionally “abnormal” sexual practises.  When I fill out surveys for The Stranger or Now, I’m asked if I’ve participated in activities that I probably wouldn’t even consider (or have never heard of). 

Not only does Cosmo fail at being a worthwhile read, it fails at being provocative and – by anyones standards – daring.  Call the world a sad and sordid place if you must (I’ll respectfully disagree with you), but assplay and handcuffs just aren’t shocking anymore.  That’s not to say people shouldn’t allot themselves time to consider whether or not anal sex or bondage are right for them, but the concepts themselves aren’t scandalous.

Cosmo certainly doesn’t represent a massive portion of women, but it does reach a hefty chunk of them.  Despite the fears of some conservative writers who work for sites like www.cwfa.org, it seems like today’s common grocery store “smut” magazine isn’t encouraging women to be all that deviant.

Lay your fears to rest concerned ladies, not every 20-something female is a serial-fellating, self-loathing trainwreck.  Some still like it on the bottom with the lights off, just the way God intended…or something.