Are We All Just Chubbettes Obsessed with Movie Stars?
This afternoon I sat around on MySpace, hitting “Refresh” to see what ads I’d get. Must be a slow month in ad sales; every new banner was a weight loss pitch. Here they are, in order of how I received them:
And it isn’t just MySpace that thinks my trunk could use less junk. Last month, Rachel Beckman of the Washington Post wrote an article about the “muffin top” ads that barrage her when she logs on to Facebook. I see them too. All that fleshy muffin-toppiness leaves nothing to the imagination:
A study from earlier this year found women are generally more concerned about weight than disease. And because I’m guessing this passel of tacky, over-obvious and insulting ads don’t actually improve perceived site value (MySpace, whatever happened to your Cartier days?), there’s just one explanation: women must actually click on these things.
I guess that’s cool if you feel açai berry juice will really solve your deep-seated problems. But what about me? Why am I attacked with potshots of love handles five times per visit?
Does persistence ultimately persuade? Or maybe every chick just has a day where, in a rush of self-hatred, she finally wants to read Jen’s fucking Weight Journal.
