Despite its rigorous adherence to fad diets, once-a-month personal training sessions and watching The Biggest Loser, the bogan is getting fatter. This displeases the bogan, who, with only so much leeway in blaming its failing thyroid glands, needs to look for other remedies to this ongoing existential bogan angst. In short, the bogan does not look like Nicole Ritchie, and is confused. The ultimate conclusion any self-respecting bogan would reach is to adapt their reality to make themselves normal.
However, it is not the bogan who makes this leap, but OK! Magazine (so named as to reassure the bogan that it is, indeed, OK!). Upon facing flagging sales and interest in its ever-widening array of not-so-wide celebrities on the cover, it takes a different tack. ‘Real Women!’ screams the biannual cover, as the editors divine that the bogan wants to be told that it, and people like it, are just as beautiful as professional models. These new photographic targets are dubbed ‘plus size models’, and offer the fiercely anti-PC bogan an opportunity to selectively embrace a form of political correctness that legitimises their own slightly robust forms.
Roused from its inward-looking misery, the bogan can purchase the magazine in question, and gaze on these women who look ‘just like me’, and begin loudly proclaiming to all and sundry that they ‘Want to see REAL women!’ After the success of OK!, the bogan finds itself confronted with sundry images of Magda Szubanski, celebrating and revelling in her diminished level of fatness, yet remaining a ‘real woman’. Thus validated, the bogan can continue applying copious amounts of mayonnaise to its McDonalds salad. It’s a real woman.
Despite this pronouncement, the following week, Lara Bingle and Jennifer Hawkins are splashed across the covers of every major women’s mag in the country to massively increased sales. The bogan, as it peruses the collection in front of it, picking up Angelina Jolie, Jessica Alba (who is back to her pre baby weight) and an oddly emaciated Rebecca Twigley, continues to talk to its cohorts about how it wishes to see ‘real women’ on Magazines. It then forgets.
Two years later, OK! Magazine decides that it needs to ‘pay tribute to the real women’, and puts out a cover with a suburban housewife, discussing her battles with body image.
The male bogan is mortified.