On Elastic Waist, we focus a lot on whether or not it’s appropriate to whittle down to impossible sizes, whether it’s responsible for a role model to get watermelons implanted on her sternum and whether or not we’re going to then practically (or literally) kill ourselves trying to reach these impossible states of modified perfection. But really, it comes down to a chicken and egg scenario (or maybe the fascist beauty standards and the saline implant scenario). Who is to blame?

While in LAX this weekend, feeling distinctly like an exotic species amidst all of the obviously altered population (some of the faces I saw were stretched so tightly that their cheeks positively hummed like harpstrings) and picked up Radar because it had a picture of a plasticine Nicole Kidman doll on the cover. I was happy I did, because it's got a unique perspective on body modification in Hollywood. Through anecdotes, clearly the finger of blame falls to the casting director rather than the starlets who subject themselves to the scalpel, fearing they day they are forced to show their not-quite-firm stomachs while lipsyncing to “Gimme More.”

However, what struck me most about this article was the nugget buried within this quote:

If any "suggestions" are made, says Greg H., they're conveyed privately to the actor's agent when he or she calls for feedback, in a codified manner that's both frank and veiled: "There's very little editing in that discussion. There's no taboo in mentioning that an actress's eyes look really 'tired,' which is code for 'she could use an eye lift.'" (Similarly, "I don't know what we're going to do with her during the beach scene" means, "Look, she needs implants if she wants bimbo roles.") More than 80 percent of casting directors are women themselves, he says, and many of them are among the most unsparing: "Believe me, they love delivering that kind of news."

Wait one fucking second. Women are the victims! We’re the ones who are starving to obtain genetically impossible thighs. We’re the ones shoving plastic bits under our skin to more closely mimic exaggerated estrogen features. We’re the ones who are valued less for our brains and more for our bodies. But apparently the person holding the gun to our heads? Ignore that man behind the sexist curtain, because dude looks like a lady.

But it’s true, isn’t it? The pickiest websites out there, the ones that love to scuttle the butt on cellulite and which starlet looks like she’s gained weight and which one looks like she’s losing, those blogs are all written by women. Has the world gone mad? Ladies, are we seriously hanging ourselves with our own double standard? Is this fair? What can be done? What is the breaking point? What the hell is going on?

The comments are going to call your agent and suggest a nip and a tuck.