Hypocrites are We Not?

Advertisers should be given more credit than is given. Magazines, TV commercials, even the newspaper propagate what the ideals of life should be.

The happy family consisting of a mixed looking dad, a young mother with perfect hair, and two children who appear to be obedient angels.

How about the sweet beauty with smooth skin and shiny soft hair, showing off her pearly whites while looking at you, the viewer.

Or perhaps the sexy Caucasian models with the perfect bodies, fleshy in all the right places, and ripped tone where it should be. Really, these are the standards that the average folk should imitate.

Why are stereotypical images in a fantasized world so important to us?

Perhaps it was meant to paint us a fantasy that is precisely that. Many don’t realise that while for a brief moment magic is captured in front of the lens, there is the scrutinizing selection of the wardrobe, conceptualizing the image fantasy to be portrayed, the technicalities of lighting, lens, mood, and of course the model.

Yes the model. Who knows how many days she deprived herself of a proper wholesome meal, who knows if she spent gruesome hours in the gym although fatigued by the lack of food in her body, who knows about the tireless hours she spends staring at the magazines, wishing it was her on the front pages and not her best friend.

And yet, we see a beautiful girl with the perfect lips, perfect eyes, perfect physique, perfect smile, perfect teeth, perfect hair, while we forget the countless hours, perhaps days and months and weeks that was spent envisioning the capturing of that one magical moment.

Does staring at those pages make you happy? Does it please your eyes as you gaze at those visions of perfection while your makeup-less face and toweled dry hair is the vision you see in front of your mirror? This juxtaposition of the image is what feeds your thoughts. The subconscious works overtime in sponging up all that is smeared in the mind until you tell yourself straight is better than crooked, silky is better than coarse, white is better than black, but pink is the new black.

It’s sad to hear people ogle over a dress, a garment, a work of art. “we can always get another girl, but we cannot get another work of art”. Is art more precious than a life a person? Is not art created to showcase the wonders of life and creation? Still we condemn what was made by the hands of the Omnipotent, telling His creation that what she has is not good enough. Is it vindication in calling this hostility part of the industry that is created by man?

Hypocrites are we not?