Glamour, a glossy magazine on makeup and relationships targeted at young women, is in talks for a new editor with...Lena Dunham.

Now, far be it from me to comment on someone's physical endowment, but there's an obvious disconnect in concept between the image presented by the HBO actress and the name of the storied magazine whose title is a reference to allure, mystery, fleeting attraction, magic.  Dunham's looks, while not anyone's idea of glamorous, would probably be unremarkable were it not for the many unglamorous things Dunham has done with them to create fame and fortune for herself.

One is to pose on a toilet for social media as a love offering to someone, apparently, and then whine when the public reaction wasn't so laudatory.

Getting naked again on Instagram is another, with only emojis to cover her strategic regions, in some bid to prove "body positivity."

Then there's getting naked on Saturday Night Live.

And there's getting naked on her self-written HBO series, Girls, for who knows what reason.

And writing about performing unspeakable acts on her baby sister and then getting mad when some called it sexual abuse.

There's been plenty of other stuff.  Oh, and yes, she's a loudly left-wing Hollywood activist.

OK, I get it that Glamour has falling circulation and probably wants to attract a new generation of young readers.  Dunham is successful, and she's edgy.  She's a new definition of glamor, kind of the way the Dove soap ads try to redefine beauty.

But she's absolutely the opposite of what glamor is.  She doesn't hold back, veil anything in mystery, or resort to witchery.  She lets it all hang out.  She calls that honesty, virtue-signaling, while the rest of us call it exhibitionism.  As Voltaire once said, the secret of being a bore is to tell all.  That applies equally to showing all.

Wouldn't Dunham instead be better suited to be the editor of a magazine called Shameless, Bare Ass, or In Your Face?  Sure seems so based on her current body of work, however literal that may be.