It was such a mixed message it actually made me laugh out loud.
But it wasn't the laughter that stems from amusement or hilarity. More the kind that's combined with a snort and followed by a heavy sigh.
I was watching TV, one of those new "women-focused" networks that we now have thanks to our recent decision to switch to digital television.
My attention was captured by a wonderful commercial for Plan Canada's Because I Am A Girl campaign.
The commercial features Sophie Grégoire-Trudeau telling us all about the power of girls to change the world, if only we give them the help they need to do so.
"Girls are the answer, and so are you," she tells us.
I've gotta admit, I'm a sucker for such things. The ad gave me the warm fuzzies and the kind of "you-go-girl" feeling that I'm sure the commercial's creators were hoping I'd have.
All well and good. Until the next commercial came on.
It was, I believe, for conditioner that's meant to take the frizz out of my hair and make it look salon-sleek so that I don't need to leave home with - gasp! - dull, lifeless, wispy locks.
Then there was another one, for some magical product that's designed to make my skin look years younger and keep away those dastardly wrinkles and age spots. Next up? Makeup, sold with the assurances that I too can look as good as Andie MacDowell, because heaven forbid I should start looking my actual age.
And so on. And so on. And so on.
Pretty soon the inspiring, you-go-girl sort of feeling was replaced by the sad realization that, as a society, we don't value girls and women much at all.
Correction: We do value women.
Just so long as they're young and thin with perfect skin and glossy hair. (Or, if not young, at least the kind of "woman of a certain age" who fights off every tiny sign of encroaching age with an arsenal of expensive chemical products.)
Yes, it seems, even in 2011, it still isn't good enough to be ourselves.
It isn't good enough to be strong. To be intelligent. To be compassionate. To be adventurous. To be creative. To sing and dance and paint and draw and run and jump and play.
To be fighters and lovers and teachers and friends.
To make each other laugh and dry each others' tears.
To bring to the table patience and kindness and respect and wisdom.
To be, in a nutshell, ourselves.
Those selves, it seems, are only welcome if we're willing to gloss them up and polish them into younger, thinner, more socalled flawless versions of the real thing.
So what exactly is the message we're sending our girls?
Something like: "Because I am a girl, I must fall into one narrowly defined, artificial standard of beauty, or I will spend my whole life buying products to help me alleviate the dissatisfaction associated with being imperfect."
Sigh.
Don't get me wrong, I'm no paragon of virtue when it comes to eschewing societal stereotypes.
Despite my low-maintenance approach to all things resembling fashion and beauty (those who know me will be familiar with my jeans, T-shirts, makeup-free face and naturally frizzy hair), I'm just as guilty as anyone else of sighing at cellulite, lamenting over the size of my hips and racing to the drug store for more Clairol No.
110 (Natural Light Auburn) to cover my increasingly abundant grey. (And seriously, zits at 41? Honestly. You'd think crow's feet would be sufficient.)
But I look around at all the women I know, and the ones I admire aren't necessarily the ones who've managed to "preserve" themselves and who look, in that dreadful phrase, "so good for their age."
They're the ones who, in all sorts of ways, show how wonderful it is to grow older.
They're the mothers who are raising the next generation of children - girls and boys - to be strong, compassionate, adventurous, creative people.
They're the managers who lead teams of employees with the kind of wisdom and grace that can only be acquired with decades of experience.
They're the adventurers who hike and paddle and cycle and backpack off to parts unknown. They're the artists who dare to dream, to create, to bare their souls and chart their own paths every single day.
They're not all thin. They don't all have glossy hair. And, yes, a whole lot of them have wrinkles and age spots. But you know what? They're all amazing. And beautiful.
Remember what Sophie Grégoire-Trudeau said?
Girls are the answer, and so are we.
I believe that. I truly, honestly, genuinely do.
But I'll feel less hypocritical about saying that on the day I'm able to gracefully let my hair grow grey and quit thinking about the size of my hips.
I'm working on it.
Julie MacLellan is the assistant editor and arts editor of the Burnaby NOW and The Record.
