Honey, They Airbrushed the Kids!

In the year 2040 the publication of crow’s feet will be deemed a crime against humanity.

Kate Winslet’s daughter will appear before the International Court in the Hague for disseminating offensive material: photos of buttocks exceeding the mandated size 8.

Michelle Pfeiffer will look younger than she did in 1992 when she boycotted People magazine for printing a cover shot with (gasp!) bloodshot eyes.

Blemishes are wiped from teenagers’ faces; octogenarians lose the lines marking the road map of their lives; toothpaste models make the Osmonds look like hard-core tobacco-chewers.

Gangs of digital artists break into homes harbouring family photos featuring gapped teeth, receding hairlines, beer guts and wing-nuts.

This is the brave new world of cosmetic surgery, without the pain of a scalpel or the toxicity of botulism.

And it’s coming to a mantelpiece near you.

For years, Hollywood stars have been battling an addiction to the airbrush, fiercer than any pack of Propanol.

Elle Macpherson travels with her own retouch artist to counter those nasty ‘cellulite’ rumours.

God forbid that a middle-aged woman has physical flaws!

Now, the airbrush is pointing squarely in the direction of our favourite reality show star, Julie Goodwin.

The Masterchef winner looks absolutely gorgeous in the Australian Women’s Weekly.

But I reckon she looked pretty good in the first place.

In the words of one blogger, “She was beautiful before, but no, not good enough for the magazine world where fake appearances reign supreme and beauty is everything. Damn these editors who warp people’s perceptions of beauty.”

It’s not necessarily the fault of the editors.

“We try not to put too many myths out there,” says Women’s Weekly boss Deborah Thomas, “but all of the images we receive have already been altered by the photographers.”

She admits that Julie Goodwin’s snapper “was a bit heavy-handed with the Photoshop”.

In 2003, Kate I-love-doughnuts Winslet apologised for a digitally-slimmed shot in GQ magazine because she “didn’t want to be a hypocrite”.

Six years, a second child and a nude photo shoot later, her opinions – like the recent Vanity Fair spread – are in soft-focus.

An ‘autopsy’ by professional airbrush artist Chris Bickmore reveals that “her bottom has been rounded off so it looks nice and pert. I would be surprised if her bottom was like that, naturally”.

One editor says touched-up photos, like that of Kelly Clarkson on the cover of Self magazine, are “meant to inspire women to want to be their best”.

Personally, they inspire me to feel even more insecure about that lump of cellulite or sagging jowl.

If a fresh-faced 20-something needs to be digitally-altered, what does that say about the rest of us?

Clearly, the Photoshoppers at one women’s magazine think my husband is the missing link between Homo erectus and Neanderthal man.

After our first family photo shoot, they airbrushed out every hair on his body, making him look like a performer in the Gay Mardi Gras.

(Less painful than a back, sac and crack wax, I guess.)

Hubby abstained from the next photo shoot, leaving me and kids.

Imagine my horror when I received an email with the Subject line: Retouched family photo.

I called out to monkey-boy, “Honey, they airbrushed the kids!”

While I was happy about the removal of the deep frown line that makes me look slightly constipated, I didn’t see the need to improve on the perfect skin of two small children.

The editor of Woman’s Day, Fiona Connolly, doesn’t see what the fuss is all about.

‘I wish someone would go through my family album and airbrush me!” she says with a laugh.

While the thought is appealing, it widens the gap between the haves and have-nots.

“The ridiculous thing is, you meet some of these people (celebrities) and they’re incredibly beautiful anyway, and then they get airbrushed even more? First they win the genetic lottery then they win the photographic one!” says one journo friend.

In Britain, the liberal democrats are trying to ban airbrushing because of the effect of the unattainable images on young women.

Back home, they could breach Section 52 of the Trade Practices Act, pertaining to misleading and deceptive conduct.

(Will that jar of petro-chemicals really fight the seven signs of ageing and make me look like Penelope Cruz? Of course it will!)

Fast-forward to 2040, and technology marches to the beat of Newton’s Law – for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.

While the glossy magazines portray physical perfection, huge HDTVs reveal every wrinkle, blackhead and love-handle.

Celebrities will have an Elle of a time stopping that.