All grown up, Clarissa now sees it differently

When Melissa was Clarissa, she was a realistic role-model for those who wanted one-she was endlessly pestered by her geeky brother, she had a mouthful of braces and her breasts were still in the germination stage. As an individual, Melissa was suffering from the same awkward pubescence as her audience; as a television character Clarissa mocked herself and her overly-dramatized life, using humor to deflect the difficulties of early-teen years.

But Melissa is now Sabrina, and instead of being pestered by her little brother, she is irked by her "authentic," talking black cat. And no longer solely reliant upon humor to help her through rough times, she is now aided by the supernatural powers characteristic of witches.

The biggest metamorphosis of all, however, is an anatomical one. ABC cashes in where Nickelodeon couldn't: Melissa Joan Hart is no longer a lanky adolescent girl with braces and stringy hair. She's a babe with springy curls and a face covered with cosmetics. She's got curvy hips, a button ass and a midriff that costume designers are reluctant to clothe. She's got tits-and it bothers me.

It bothers me because the bulk of her audience is still a conglomerate of pre-pubescent teens who are looking to Sabrina for the newest fashion tips. I fear that if Sabrina's apparel on TGIF is skimpy, then young girls will prematurely reveal their own skin.

"But alas," I say to myself. "I am just a conservative old fart with a saggy ass and a rippled belly. I am envious." And it probably is true that, if I could pull it off confidently, I would bear my midriff on occasion. Because, though I consider my self intellectually, politically and even emotionally a feminist, I still crave the male "eye" of approval.

Initially, I implicated the creators of "Sabrina the Teenage Witch" for the escalation of my insecurities following last Friday's episode. My house mates paid little heed to my whining, though, and attributed my crankiness to a sore throat. I proved them wrong with an entire week of incessant griping about Sabrina as a perpetuator of sexism and a subconscious instigator of eating disorders.

Finally agitated, my house mates cornered me and challenged my notions of Sabrina as an evil witch. They reminded me that Sabrina, half witch and half mortal, is represented as a stereotypically troubled, human teenager who (sigh) is not perfect.

This is true; in fact, last week Sabrina farted in front of her entire science class. The episode, focused on the embarrassment that plagues all individuals, highlighted Sabrina as the girl most embarrassed. Furthermore, Sabrina did not use her witch powers to rid herself of humiliation, proving that she is, after all, moral and humane.

But she's still a witch, damnit! She still has special powers that us measly humans lack. In fact, if she didn't have bouncy boobs, all she would have to do is ask her witch relatives for the spell that would perk them up. It's a lot more practical than silicon (and anyway, if Sabrina were to ever contract cancer from silicon, she could just blink it away). The fact that Sabrina's biggest dilemma appears to be whether or not to abuse her power of privilege makes for an awfully shallow premise for a sitcom. The show is make-believe and we all know it.

Why, then, does she make me (a 23 year-old "free thinker") want to hide my head in a pillow? Why do I obsess about the extra five around my hips and gut as I turn off the TV?

Probably because I take myself far too seriously. Consequently, I view what little television I watch with too discerning an eye. I'm not 12 years old anymore, and I probably shouldn't watch "Sabrina the Teenage Witch" as though I were.

Maybe it is actually my own unwavering adherence to media's subliminal messages that inflicts my ego. I can't laugh at that asinine talking cat and I can't laugh at the easiness Sabrina experiences in fixing her problems. I haven't yet learned to laugh at my own adolescence, and perhaps this is my biggest obstacle of all.

Truthfully, I think media-Hollywood, television, Cosmo, Victoria's Secret advertisements-is the evil witch. Certainly, if I am severely haunted by media's tricks, then I should stay away from that scary, black box. Sorry Sabrina, it's not your fault. It's theirs. And mine.

And theirs.

All grown up, Clarissa now sees it differently. (photos courtesy of ABC)