[It's pretty obvious that the average CollegeCandy reader has some very strong opinions. Opinions that she likes to share with everyone on the site. We love a strong woman (unless she happens to be charging at us with her fists raised), so we thought we'd give her a real forum to discuss her thoughts, feelings, and perspectives. Every Friday I'll be featuring a hot topic (like socks with sandals!) and leaving it up to you, the readers, to duke it out. So, read it and get your debate on in the comments section below!]

In case you’ve been living in a hole for the past week (or, you know, busy paying attention to important world events), Heidi Montag got plastic surgery… like seriously! While we and pretty much everyone else has been clear on what we think about her new “look,” it got me thinking. One of the big things people have pointed out about Heidi’s work (aside from the sheer number of surgeries) is her age – specifically that she seems incredibly young to be having work done.

Now we’re not talking about medically necessary surgeries or reconstruction here, I’m talking the pure “make me pretty because I want it” type of thing, and I admit, I can see the appeal. While I have always been a proponent of the “love yourself the way you are” mentality, there are definitely days where I have wished I could wake up with a smaller nose or bigger boobs or a magically flat tummy – and I know I’m not alone. I was always taught that self-esteem is important, and most of us wouldn’t think twice about, say, coloring our hair or getting a gym membership to boost our self-image.

Isn’t plastic surgery just an (admittedly extreme) extension of that?  Read More »

[This post is courtesy of our gal pal, Marie Claire.]

It all started 10 years ago with a drunken kiss, which quickly led to drunken sex. She was the cool, pretty receptionist at the glossy music magazine where I was interning. But after a few more heated nights together that summer, my gig ended, and so did our trysts. I initially dismissed our encounters as nothing more than clumsy, alcohol-fueled experimentation — little did I know things were going to get much more complicated.

Prior to that fateful fling, I had been straight as a ruler and extremely confident about my figure. I’d always been robust (185 pounds), and proudly so. Constant attention from men — be it coy advances or vulgar catcalls — kept me feeling like a wanted woman. I was certain that my large breasts, tiny waist, and curvaceous hips were irresistible to members of the opposite sex. These assets — in any size and shape — were just so alien and intriguing to them. Read More »