New day, new song. Are you relieved? I know you are so don’t play me. The song I want to explore over the next two days is “Workin’ On It” by Meghan Trainor. Two days and lots of goodness to explore. First bit:
Never been asked to dance
‘Cause I never been the pretty one
Never like compliments
‘Cause it’s always been so hard belivin’ them
You say I’m beautiful
And I say you’re full of it
Nothing personal
I’m still not used to this
But I’m workin’ on, workin’ on it
Workin’ on, workin’ on it
I’ve been workin’ on, workin’ on it
Workin’ on, workin’ on
Yikes. Those words are hard for me to read. Why? Well, because of my insecurities. You don’t have any? That’s great. That was said with zero sarcasm. If you think you are the shit, then you are leaps and bounds ahead of me.
I want to dive right into today’s discussion by exploring what physical appearance means in our society and how profoundly it shapes us and our feelings about ourselves. It’s horrifying really. I want to talk about the United States. Not because they don’t have prescribed beauty ideals around the world but because I am uniquely qualified to discuss those that exists HERE, where I live.
I don’t want to talk about magazines or Hollywood because that feels pretty far away right now. That’s not to say that those situations are extinct. It’s just to say that they are a little out of reach given the state of the world. Seeing as though we aren’t going to the movies and there are no real awards ceremonies and so on, it seems like the whole community of “stars” is a bit quieter. I will side bar for one moment and tell you that this pisses me off to no end. I’m glad they all feel super comfortable voicing their opinions on shit on a regular basis, but when everything is truly going to shit, they are noticeably silent? There are some good eggs, but shame on most of them.
Anyway, I want to talk about Tik Tok. I was sent a funny video from Tik Tok the other night and I downloaded the app again, because I had deleted it. And then I got into a black hole of scrolling through all the garbage that is Tik Tok, and then I decided to delete it again. I didn’t delete it because I’m better than Tik Tok. I deleted it because I think it is a poison. A repository for toxic waste. Are there exceptions? Sure. I am 100% sure that there are exceptions. I’ve seen exceptions. Smart people making funny videos or serious videos or profound videos. I’ve also seen ten fucking thousand videos of over sexualized [young] women. I’ve seen enough tooth licking, ass shaking and hair flipping to last a lifetime.
Do I think that women should own their sexuality and not be ashamed of it? Sure. Yes. Absolutely. I don’t think we should exist in a society where a man lifting his shirt to show his abs is dope and a woman shaking her shit is an invitation. I don’t. But that’s not my point. Not even close. This isn’t about owning one’s stuff. This isn’t about equality. This is about a society that has determined that you are better and more desirable if you are hot. This is about a culture that has determined you are more worthy of partnership and success if you have shiny lips and a curvy figure. This is about a singular standard for beauty that waivers but stays relatively consistent in its exclusion of most of our population.
If and when we don’t fit the societal paradigm of hotness or prettiness as a woman, we are taught (overtly and in a subvert fashion as well) that we are unworthy. We are taught that compliments that are cast upon us find us from a place of pity or lack of options and not genuineness. We are not picked for things because we are not pretty, we are single because we are not sexy, we are not successful enough at work because we don’t have the ‘it’ factor. It doesn’t matter what we do and what we aspire to, we have a ceiling that resides above us, at differing heights, based on our attractiveness.
We are not taught that brilliance is beautiful. Or funniness. Or kindness or compassion. That’s just not how it works. So, whenever something good happens, it’s a fluke. We cling to that thing like a life raft, afraid of loss, because we know that at any moment, it might be revealed that we are not enough to deserve that thing.
I remember when I saw my ex’s new partner for the first time. A photograph. The first words out of my mouth were that she was sexy and I could never be sexy. She had that thing. The pouty lips and beachy hair and long legs. I justified being left for her by comparing our physical appearance. I’m only 4’11”. I have wild curly hair and a distinctive nose and a more athletic figure. Cool. Who fucking cares? I didn’t do that because it’s the smart thing to do. Very few women compare themselves to others as a mechanism for productive and feel-good growth. Sometimes this happens, but it’s more by default than by design. We don’t look at the woman who is a little messy but accomplished as shit and say we want to be her. We look at the woman who is successful (maybe less so) and also “put together” and tell ourselves that she has it all.
This is a fucked up situation people. It really is and we just continue feeding the monster. We sit on Tik Tok and Instagram and mindlessly scroll through the well curated feeds of people we think have it easier or who are better off. Women with the perfect hair, perfect families, perfect houses, perfect products. We don’t know their feelings or thoughts or aspirations or struggles. We only know what they want us to know.
Everyone shits though, you know? I mean that’s crude but it’s really important to remember when shaking yourself out of an appreciation reverie. We are all human. We all have stuff going on beneath the surface. There are some amazing people who are traditionally beautiful and there are some beautiful people who are made more amazingly beautiful by everything they have underneath the surface.
We can’t do the work until we stop buying into this shit. And I know I’ve talked about this before. When we see a super model talking about how she also has cellulite, we comment with a hands clapping emoji, but does that really resonate? Cool, she might have a few dimples on her otherwise perfect buttocks, but she also has brilliant blue eyes, and giant breasts, and the tiniest waist I’ve ever seen on something that isn’t a Barbie doll. It’s not just about admitting that those we consider to be perfect have flaws. It’s about accepting that none of us our perfect. It’s about changing your thought patterning so you can understand that someone might think you are beautiful despite your departure from the widely held model in the US. They might think you are attractive but also made more gorgeous by all the good shit you have going on. They might want to ask you to dance because you are an amazing dancer. Or you are a shitty dancer but you dance with reckless abandon and that is sexy as hell. They might think you are beautiful in how you love to cook or love to eat or love to learn. It’s not about diminishing people who are attractive. It’s about looking at all the other shit and saying that is ALSO worthy of attention and value. We can value people for all different things. We can give people a shot. We can open our minds. We can accept a compliment and breathe through the discomfort until we believe it. You don’t have to think everyone thinks you are beautiful. What if you just believe it of the person who says it to you? Not in a gullible way. In a really lovely way.
Just saying. Let’s start there.
L.
thepathtoworthy.com 