We all are.
I just finished The Beauty Myth by Naomi Wolf. Yes, I should be asleep, but I had to do this.
I loved this book, and unlike the 500 or so other books I love, I'm going to pass this one on. I have to. This book took me about 5 days to read - for less than 300 pages, that's a long time for me. It was the only book I read. I read the Commercial Appeal, of course, and checked out an amazing blog, The Reclusive Leftist, which probably fueled this early morning post.
The book I was reading before was A Dirty Job by Christopher Moore, a great, funny book about death. I love Chris Moore. The book I'll be reading next is a Sabrina the Teenage Witch novelization I also got at Goodwill last week. (What? You have a problem with my literary interests?)
Much of The Beauty Myth was beyond me - I haven't entered the workforce, I haven't dated, and it was written when I was 2 or 3, so it's all history to me. Horrifying history. What was done to Victorian women... I... half of the population! Told they were invalids because they menstruated! Bah! "Good old days." (Beyond the social inequities of the "good old days", I'd be dead. Thyroid surgery was still killing people in my grandfather's day - the early '70s.)
The book explains how, as women fought for equality and left the house, they were trapped by something else, the beauty myth, so as to never fully achieve equality. You still see it today.
The section called Hunger, so shocking, but so real! I hear it all the time, hell, I even felt it - I should starve myself for a few weeks to look better - luckily my growling stomach won out.
The book does not say we should fully reject makeup and beauty regimens, but that we should only do them because we want to, it's for our enjoyment, not what we think the world wants.
Onto my beauty.
I am drop-dead gorgeous. That's a given.
I never wear makeup. I only wear one piece of jewelry - an eyebrow ring. My hair regimen consists of washing it every other day and brushing it every day. I'll let my sister straighten it from time to time, but it never looks like me.
I have dark, long eyebrows. My sister claims I only have one brow, and that she must pluck the almost invisible hairs on top of my nose. No, she won't. Not on my time. I'd rather pierce it than pluck it, thanks but not thanks.
My eyes are two blue/green pools, magnified by my ever-present glasses (I ain't pokin' myself in the eyes to see, people) and my dark brows.
My nose is a family nose, small, rounded, quite cute and perfect for my face. My mouth is small as well, and fits in fine. When I let loose with a big smile, you see my uneven teeth and my dimples. You see my happiness.
My hair frames the whole picture, a curly, wavy blonde/brown border that covers my big ears and sets a relaxed vibe to the whole thing.
And my body? While not perfect on the inside (I'm anxiously awaiting cyborg parts - kidney stones hurt), it is just fine on the outside. I've got the right curves, my breasts are proportionate, beautiful, stretchmarked from the ravages of puberty, and perfect, though a major pain if I get on the trampoline without adequate support!
I have a little hourglass going on, and I love it. It's completely natural, and when I'm in the mood to wear a tight shirt, I feel like the whole damn world knows I'm gorgeous, and it's a great feeling.
It took me a few years to get to this point, but I love it, and I hope to never lose it.