As opposed to popular
thinking, most women do not dress for men. Most women dress for women. I think
we have done this for centuries. And along those lines I think that women get
“work” done for other women, with the possible exception of breasts. I think a
large part of the plastic movement is done to impress our own gender. I think
we need to look good for other women and, as a result, we might just be doing
each other in. Eating our own as it were.
Wouldn’t it be lovely if
every woman would look to a friend who is aging or is less than perfect and
say, “You look great.” There is an oft
bandied about phrase which goes, “A smile is your best accessory.” But the
truth is, it is! If we feel good about ourselves we look great. Inner beauty
has gotten a bad rap for being, well ... inner beauty. Yet there is nothing
“inner” about it. If we nail the inner, the outer comes along for the ride.
The world is obsessed
with “hot”. We have this burning desire to look “hot”.
What is hot? Really.
Isn’t hot chemical? Isn’t hot in the eyes of the beholder? Can we possibly
sustain this media image of hot? No one friggin can. But between the “hot”
flashes we can, in no particular order, look lovely, pretty, cute, gorgeous, rested,
sparkling, happy, sexy, engaged, spirited graceful and ... handsome. I have
always been miffed at the use of “handsome woman” as a derogatory term. Some of
the most attractive and sexy women I have known have been “handsome”, for the
record.
I think Ashley Judd was
spectacular, strong and poised in her rebuttal. But thinking forward, what
would happen if we all just stopped caring? I know, I know ... but I think we
have to spend more time changing our own perceptions of ourselves. And we need
to spend conscience time doing this. Like ... equal to Facebook time. We worry
too damn much about what others think of us. And people in the public eye have
the added worry of what the media thinks of them and as a result, the world.
But here’s the thing. Maybe
we have to accept what we cannot change. Because we can’t change what people
say publicly or privately about us. But we can change what we put out there.
And in the end, the only logical answer is to stop taking the bait. And maybe
by doing that, we will change it.
In the meantime, we must
find a way to fall in love with the image we see in the mirror. WE MUST!
Remember that others do not see what we see. I have a friend who wants to get
her neck done. I get it. I see that she has a little middle-aged chin thing
going on there. And I admit that when she points it out, I see that. But that
is the only time I ever see it. What I usually see is her heartstoppingly
beautiful face. And I am not just saying that to ease her saggy chin pain. She
is beautiful. But she sees the neck. I know. I have been there. Full disclosure in a later blog.
But the truth is, in the
last little while I have worked consciously to not only make my peace with, but
to embrace my imperfections. I have been diligent in my attempts to banish them
from my psyche. Or at the very least form a truce with them. I have decided to
do the best I can with what I have. Because I am aging. We all are.
Jennifer Aniston is going
to be an old woman some day.
And it’s not like we
weren’t told. This is the life we expected. Getting old was in the offing from
the get-go. And yet we seem shocked and
panicked by it. And the media rants and the media belittles and the media
mocks.
And they do this because
they know that we believe them. And in the meantime we hope they will change.
But I think it’s us who
have to.
Barbara: Oooh, so many
juicy points here I want to respond to. First off, when you mention how most women
dress for women, I know you’re so right. I mean, there is some stuff I wear for
Phil, but in the every day sitch, I’m thinking more about “fashion” and “trend”
and “style” than I am about, well, sex.
As soon as I read this, I
remembered a moment earlier today when I was standing in a bookstore in front
of the magazine aisle and a young woman stopped not too far from me—and I was
tired and so maybe not as conscious as I would normally be. But I suddenly realized
I had literally been eying her up and down for several very looooooong minutes.
I am sure—given that my relaxed face now looks (okay, okay, in my mind’s eye,
Deb, but I am sure in real life too!) like I am an angry, judgmental bitch—
that anyone passing must have assumed I was secretly lambasting her, cutting
her up, cutting her down. But the truth is, my face looks like that when it is
relaxed!!! And I was absolutely LOVING her outfit. I wanted to drink it in. I
wanted to memorize it. She looked amazing. But betchya anything she would’ve
been shocked and outraged at my blatant staring, and surely would have
misconstrued my utter lack of intent.
So there’s that.
But I do also want to say
that I take up the noble and brave gauntlet you’ve thrown: that we need to be
aware of how we judge our physical selves so very harshly—and that we need to
STOP IT. If we go along with the old credo that the media likes to scare us,
then them openly playing to our insecurities would surely fit in with that,
right? Let’s take away that power. Let’s take our own power back.
Can we do it???
