My dirty little secret? I love women’s magazines. I can’t stand many of them for very long (I’m never going to be as severly lean and tan as they are in Self; Bitch is just too serious — and the defense of J.T. Leroy wasn’t necessary; and Cosmo — puh-leeze — quit regurgitating the same stale sex tips.

But my adoration for Glamour lasted longer than any of them. I really did buy it for the articles, not just pictures of cute shoes (although that goes a long way with me); not the Lifetime-television-type tales but the real articles about women’s health (which stated facts, not ideologies), politics, Marianne Pearl’s articles, and the fact that I could stand to look at their models without wanting to feed them. And the pictures of cute shoes.

Alas, the honeymoon is over. Espousing normal bodies and self-acceptance is wonderful, and they have more than practiced what they’ve been preaching. The diet-pill ads started to get to me first. Two full pages devoted to another phony miracle diet pill (which will probably kill you) completely negates the well-fed models and mentality. I have a ballpark idea of just how much ad revenue those ads brought in (two full pages in a glossy? $$$$$$), but you can’t have it both ways. I’m sure there are plenty of stinky little perfume pages to make up for those two pages.

What pushed me over the edge was last month’s issue (America Ferrara on the cover), which had an interview with Elizabeth Hasselbeck — not just an interview but an article featuring her as a champion of free speech in the fearsome face of Rosie O’Donnell. "How to Come Out On Top," reads the headline. In their eyes, the poor little blond is somehow victorious after losing her cool on live TV, taking on the big scary lesbian, and repeating her beliefs (not based on facts) about healthcare and the war. "I love having a debate with other women who are intelligent and passionate." If only Hasselbeck was intelligent. Then she wouldn’t believe that the morning-after pill should not be given to rape and incest victims, that it’s only okay for rich people to live together and have children out of wedlock, and despite the enormous humanitarian crisis of the disastrous Iraq war (based on lies about nonexistent chemical weapons), it is just.

"What are the big domestic issues for you?" they ask. "Education. Health care…It’s insane that mammograms and ultrasounds aren’t free to all women. I spoke at the 2004 Republican National Convention about that." Well isn’t that special? Too bad she aligns herself with the party that could not care less about anyone’s health or well-being. You want women to have free mammograms and ultrasounds? Try Planned Parenthood clinics, which provide a variety  of low-cost or free health exams for women. Many clinics don’t event perform abortions —  they are simply about healthcare.

The Republicans are the wrong party to speak to about women’s healthcare. Under this administration, the FDA appointed a veterinarian as head of the Office of Women’s Health. That’s what we are to Republicans —  just a bunch of animals. 

That was enough. But Glamour kept going. In this month’s issue (Mariah Carey on the cover), there’s an interview with Jenna Bush (the one who was arrested twice on alcohol-related charges and who is engaged to a former Karl Rove staffer) and her "bff" —  a former Glamour staffer. Jenna has a new book out, called Ana’s story, about an unwed teenage mother with AIDS in Panama. You know, the country that Jenna’s grandfather bombed (thank you, Wonkette).

This is just too much for me. Other women’s magazines have bored me and irritated me, but none of them have ever outright pissed me off before. I cannot believe that a magazine that once received a "Champion of Choice" award from NARAL-NY would air-brush and sell one woman whose beliefs are in complete opposition to everything that Glamour used to be about, and another whose father has, and continues to, set back the healthcare, choices, and freedoms of both American women and women overseas by decades.

That’s just not my style.

Jennifer Leblanc