A while ago a friend told me she feels inspired by that Special K ad, you know, the one where they encourage women to 'take time for themselves' by going on long runs and buying blueberries for their cereal in the morning. For some reason I couldn't quite put my finger on that ad squicked me out, and I've been thinking about it ever since. I think I've finally figured out at least one way to articulate why, exactly, the Special K ad pisses me off so.

Firstly, why is it that men are never prevailed upon to set aside 'me' time in ads? Is it that men are stoic enough to need no bracketed off 'me' time, or is it that, for the mythical man addressed by TV advertisers, every time is 'me' time, every activity in the service of a robust and singular self? The problem with 'me' time is that it suggests that every other time is not-me time, time spent in service of others. The Special K ad assumes a priori that, of course, women must be forever putting others before themselves, dedicating themselves to the needs and desires of partners, friends, children and relatives who can scarcely be expected to reciprocate. By calling on women to 'think of themselves' the Special K ad reinforces that, not only should women be expected to look after everyone else, they should do so with no expectation of being cared for themselves. Look after your kids, the ad says, your husband, your co-workers, you friends, and then, at the end of the day, look after yourself, too, because no one else will do it for you.

Moreover, the 'me' time prescribed by the Special K ad is, depressingly, dedicated to maintaining an appropriate appearance. The woman who 'remembers herself' remembers to exercise her ass into shape and eat the 'right' kind of food. Call me crazy, but waking up at dawn to hit the gym, then meditatively chewing down a bowl of Special K and blueberries doesn't sound like a particularly good time. Another friend once told me she spent her last New Year's alone in her studio drinking and masturbating. Now that sounds like 'me' time I could get into. My version of 'me' time usually involves swanning around the living room watching 'Australia's Next Top Model' and doing my nails. Somehow I don't think Kellogs can tie their product into that.

But, of course, the woman the Special K ad seems to be addressing isn't really a real woman. She's a fiction, designed to induce as much guilt as possible. She says to the viewer 'oh, you poor dear, you take care of everyone else, all the time. At least you should. Because that's what good women do. But, go on, take some time for yourself. Remember you. Take that fat ass out for a run. Buy yourself a $6 punnet of blueberries instead of your usual bag of Cheezels and cleanskin of cheap red wine. Go on. You deserve it.'

Well, fuck you, Special K. I know bitching about advertising is like shooting fish in a barrel, but come on, there are better ways to sell things. Beer advertisers catapault deer into the sky and send collections of be-robed men running through the New Zealand wilderness. Sony does surprisingly touching things with coloured balls and that Jose Gonzalez cover of 'Heartbeats.' Either of those are preferable to the construction of rather complex ideological Rube Goldberg devices out of slightly overexposed shots of tastefully clad women jogging and smiling into their cereal. Not that it matters. Special K tastes like bum, anyway.