I hate women’s magazines. I did read them once, I used to love them, swear by them and subscribe to them, but not any more. There was a point when I was flicking through the latest Eve or Cosmo or Red or whatever it was and I faced up to the fact that nothing these mags could tell me was relevant to my life any more. I knew myself better than a mag-hag hack would ever do, so why let someone in an office dictate how I should feel, look and aspire to be? Besides, I figured there were better ways to spend a couple of quid than on pages of adverts. Am I cynical and frumpy in not liking women’s mags? No, I just happen to think they’re full of advice I don’t need or want and they focus on celebrities I have no interest in. I also fully believe the glossies are less truthful than the real-life women’s mags aimed at a different demographic, these I applaud wholeheartedly. You know the ones I mean, the supermarket mags – Take a Break, Real Life, Chat, Have a Fag . Before I turned my back on ...
