I normally only buy a mainstream mass-market "women's" magazine (with the exception of InStyle, which I love without apology) when it promises to contain a story I think will be really infuriating or wrong-headed and thus compel me to write a Mediator. And normally, when I buy an issue of Jane or Seventeen for that reason, I am not disappointed in my purchase.

The April 2001 issue of Marie Claire, on the other hand, let me down. The gatefold cover features the female stars of The Practice -- Kelli Williams, Camryn Manheim, Lara Flynn Boyle, and, on the non-newsstand-visible side of the fold, Marla Sokoloff and LisaGay Hamilton. Although we're promised, in tiny script, "Secrets to a Sexy Body by the stars of The Practice," the larger story (or, at least, the largest headline on the cover) advises us to "Make the Most of [Our] Looks" (with 785 fashion, hair, and makeup ideas). So I bought the issue, figuring that, given The Practice creator David E. Kelley's well-documented issues with women's weight, the story would be packed with double talk and equivocation about women being "healthy" and "well-proportioned" and the like, with a special segment given over to Manheim in her official capacity as The Only Fat Woman on Network Television (not counting Melissa McCarthy of Gilmore Girls, since it's on the WB, which doesn't really count as a network).

Try to imagine my shock and, yes, disappointment, when the story actually turned out to be even-handed, intelligent, frank, and revealing. Damn you, Marie Claire!

First of all, it must be said that, on the cover, all five women look fantastic. They're all outfitted in fuchsia to match the backdrop in the cover shot, and it somehow flatters all of them, despite their different skin tones. Inside, the dek brags that "[t]hese five actresses -- of all different shapes and sizes -- show some of the gorgeous diversity of real American women," and when you check out the spread, it seems they really do. Hamilton's short, with short-cropped hair, wearing a long dress and flat sandals. Sokoloff and Boyle are working jeans. Williams and Manheim are both pregnant. They all look fantastic -- comfortable, relaxed, cute, and happy.

Q&As with each actor follow, asking each of them the same questions (with some minor deviations from the script). And it seems that the premise of the story is legit; they all seem pretty comfortable in their own skin. Williams comments, "I never say what I weigh, because then other people compare themselves and think, well, if she's 124, then it's OK if I'm 124. Don't own a scale; they fuck you up." Hamilton observes, "There might be a few anorexic black girls, but I don't know too many. As a community, we overeat and have things that aren't good for us," and admits that she doesn't know any woman who is happy with her body: "Perhaps when you're getting ready to die, you accept it." Sokoloff (the youngest in the piece, at the age of twenty) seems to have some freaky obsession with her knees, which she thinks are deformed in some way and which she always dresses to hide -- but she also says that Williams has had a great influence on Sokoloff's own body image. All of them own up to some insecurities about their bodies: Williams says she had breast implants (which she subsequently had removed); Hamilton complains that her stomach isn't as hard as she might like, since she hates doing sit-ups; Boyle isn't wild about her weak ankles and long toes; and even body acceptance poster girl Manheim says she hates her heels because they dry out and crack in the cold. All of them say they exercise on a regular basis, but not to any freaky, extreme, Demi Moore-ish degree. None of them seems to be on any terribly strict diet, since they confess to eating foods like butter, ice cream, Sno-Balls, and cheese.

Not surprisingly, Boyle and Manheim represent the extremes of body image. Well, actually, Boyle talks a good game in the article, claiming that she feels "[p]retty good" naked: "In terms of what measures I would go to [to get a perfect body], I don't look in the mirror and feel that I need to go to any measure for anything." I recently saw her interviewed on The Rosie O'Donnell Show, and she talked at length about the fact that she can't purchase tampons in daylight because she's too embarrassed about her bodily functions to let on to total strangers that she menstruates, and that she immediately puts on a towel after she gets out of the shower so that she doesn't see herself naked in the mirror -- besides which, by now, we've all heard that story about her...you know, area, which makes her claim of loving her body and not wishing to change a thing about it seem more than a little disingenuous. By contrast, Manheim says that she doesn't consider any food she eats to be "an indulgence," that her favourite part of her body is her clitoris, and that despite what one might assume, given her continuing notoriety as an outspoken and unapologetic Woman of Size in Hollywood, she is "healthy as a horse": "Trust me -- if you were in harm's way, you'd want me to be there. I'm the strongest, most agile person -- and the most willing to get my hands dirty to save you." Dude, sold. And rock on with your size 24 self.

(And, good for Marie Claire for running a story like this without any of the usual women's-magazine equivocation, trying to reassure readers that they're okay without pissing off the advertisers that prey on those same readers' neuroses and self-doubt in order to sell them products to disguise their own inadequacies. Instead, the editors just let the interview subjects speak for themselves, admitting that they're not superwomen, and that they aren't always overjoyed about their appearance, but that they're ulimately accepting and don't have any overblown expectations about themselves -- a departure in the women's magazine world, where you're either too fat and hate yourself, or too skinny and hate yourself. For all of those who've complained on the forums about the decline of Glamour, I can tell you that the spirit of classic Glamour seems to be reborn in Marie Claire.)

By contrast, there's the cover story of the April 2, 2001 issue of People, letting us all know that "Hollywood's Healthy Bodies Are Back." Remember just a few short months ago how People did that cover story about Carnie Wilson's gastric bypass surgery, and what a boon it was to her? And how, a few months before that, they did that story about people (mostly women, duh) who'd died as a result of their efforts toward weight-loss (from complications related to anorexia and bulimia, or during liposuction surgery, for example)? Yeah. When the hell is People going to make up its damn mind about how we should look?

Also, how does it define "healthy" for the purposes of this story (lauding the appearance of "a few extra curves" on our favourite female celebrities) if it applies equally to the very different bodies of Drew Barrymore and Charlize Theron? I mean, don't get me wrong -- it's not that I think either of them is unhealthy. But if I were making a list of Hollywood women who were carrying the tiniest extra bit of weight, Charlize Theron probably wouldn't be on it. Neither would Sandra Bullock. Or Portia de Rossi. Or Jennifer Lopez, ass notwithstanding. Or Catherine Zeta-Jones (and you would agree if you saw her in that black lace corset on the cover of the January 2001 issue of Vanity Fair). Or Sharon Stone. Kate Winslet would (and she looks fantastic in a black leather dress wrapped around her child-bearing hips). Drew would, because although I don't really like her, she looks great and carries herself beautifully. Mentions of those two aside, the story is a crock. Sharon Stone is quoted as saying that "most men don't really like skinny girls" (because it all comes down to what men want you to look like, ladies!), and, as Amy Jo Berman (a "casting executive for HBO") points out, "Even with [actresses'] being a little heavier, they're still smaller than most of the population."

Damn straight, and thanks for the perspective check. So I hope the female stars of The Practice can enjoy their few extra pounds a little longer, before David E. Kelley cracks down again and forces them all to get even smaller than they are now. At least now we know Camryn Manheim's not too afraid of getting her hands dirty to turn him into a smear on the wall.