I am BEAUTIFUL

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but somewhere along the way, we forget that we are the beholder. We turn that power over to the outside world, consistently letting others define our beauty with their own insecurities. We seek out validation from everyone but ourselves, some even going to extreme surgical lengths in search of that validation. We are inundated with media and marketing, all designed to spawn unworthiness that leads to someone else’s wealthiness. It’s a trap intended to keep you spending from your first babysitting gig to your last social security check, and it’s largely working. 

The global beauty industry is worth a whopping $571.1 billion, and the global fashion industry is worth an unfathomable $1.7 trillion. While the world’s population might be 8 billion individuals, only about 7 billion are said to live in developed or developing countries, so we can roughly assume that those 7 billion people are responsible for spending a staggering $2,271,100,000,000 to enhance or alter their appearance in some way.  Oooff. That’s a lot of dough. 

Historically Speaking

The so called “ideal” female body shape has been a focal point of society for millennia. For thousands of years, a luscious curvy figure represented wealth and status, as it symbolized the means to feed oneself, and that you weren’t required to work hard in order to do so. It also signified a fertile body, which, not surprisingly, has been a desirable attribute throughout time. From the pleasantly plump Venus figurines, to the soft and doughy Venus de Milo, being lovely and round was the go-to from prehistory all the way up through the 18th and early 19th century. In fact, if you didn’t already have curves, you were most likely corseting and/or padding yourself in an effort to create them. 

Then the 1920’s hit and for some reason, things began to shift. The slimmed down flapper girl was suddenly all the rage. Not surprisingly, we can see a rise in eating disorders in the 20’s, and those statistics have mirrored the current fashion trends ever since. While curves did trend back in for bit during the pin-up era in the 50’s, that didn’t last long. Leslie Lawson, or Twiggy as you probably know her, was aptly nicknamed because her thin frame was twig-like in appearance. At 5’6” she weighed 91 pounds and when she hit the modeling scene in the 60’s, that was it — thin became in. 

Fascinatingly, the 60’s and 70’s also brought with them a reemergence of the women’s rights movement. Women had access to birth control and feminism was on the rise, and while it might seem like women were more and more free in their bodies because of that, the truth is, the slimed down standards they held themselves too, said otherwise. The 80’s and 90’s ushered in the supermodel era and heroine chic became the key to happiness. While we've vacillated between different versions of thin, it has become the universal standard by which most women measure themselves today. 

According to a Common Sense Media report published in 2015, when given the option, roughly a third of US children aged 5 & 6 select a slimmer body type than their own as the ideal body shape. Sadly, by the age of 7, one in four children has dieted in some way. While the amount we spend on beauty products and fashion is staggering, it was these little numbers that stopped me in my tracks. 

At five years old, kids are already indoctrinated to believe that they need to be slim in order to be acceptable in society. Let that sink in. Five. Years. Old. I honestly don’t even know what to say about that. It’s criminal. 

Body shaming has become ubiquitous with social media, where people can hide behind their screens and bash others into oblivion in an effort to feel better about themselves. But, they never do. Because the bashers feel just as bad as the bashed.

Speaking Personally 

My elementary school years brought with them the delightful nickname, Thuss the Bus. I matured on the early side, and so my 18th century curves were not idealized on those 1980’s playgrounds. It was brutal. If memory serves me (which it doesn’t always), I was labeled a slut in elementary school, simply because I had breasts before anyone else did. I grew to become so self conscious about myself that I was literally embarrassed by the way my breath condescended on cold mornings at the bus stop in junior high. I remember trying to breathe as little as possible so that I didn’t call any more attention to myself. I even ended up walking 30+ minutes to school instead and avoided the bus for the rest of my school years.

I cannot remember a time in my life when I haven’t been focused on trying to be smaller than I am. It’s a daily battle when I look in the mirror. Actually, if I’m honest, I don’t even have to be looking in the mirror. I am constantly aware of the fact that my body does not meet the skinny threshold. I had hoped that this constant self-imposed assault would lessen with age, but as I settled into becoming a Yoga teacher in my mid 30’s, the pressure to look a certain way ramped up. After all, yoga teachers are supposed to be slim and flexible and perfectly centered. Spoiler alert, I am none of those things. 

I would like to be able to tell you that yoga has helped me to overcome this societal trap, but ultimately, I’m still ensnared. I do think, however, that my practice has helped me to recognize that my feelings and beliefs are false. Logically I understand that my worth is not based on the size of my body, and it’s my desire to help others come to that conclusion as well. But… it’s a struggle. 

Now in my mid-40’s, the face staring back at me in the mirror doesn’t look quite like it once did. I spend more time than I’d like to admit trying to figure out what skincare brand will actually return my youthful glow without poisoning my body. I’m even debating on buying that ridiculous Solawave red light wand thing that pops up on my instagram feed regularly, promising to restore my skins vitality for a low $229, on sale for just $189. If anyone has one and it really does work, please let me know!

The decision to wear make up is another daily dilemma. The pandemic brought with it a bit of freedom on this front, but as we’ve reentered the world, I often feel like I need to paint my face in order to leave the house. After all, what will that one guy that I went to high school with in Pennsylvania who randomly also lives in Ashburn think of me if I run into him at Whole Foods without makeup on? I’m embarrassed to admit that I basically hid from him not too long ago at Harris Teeter so that he didn’t see my unpainted, much plumper face. 

Many women say that they wear makeup for themselves, and while I honor the sentiment, I think that belief is still anchored in societal conditioning. When I wear makeup, I do feel better about myself, but it’s because deep down there is a belief that I need to be attractive in order to be worthy. If you know me, you know that I have big blue eyes. Throughout my life, I have been told that my eyes are beautiful, and I’ve always been grateful for the compliment. But here’s the kicker: no one has EVER told me I have beautiful eyes when I wasn’t wearing makeup. So do I have beautiful eyes, or do I simply know how to line and lash them up? Without makeup, I just have eyes. Like everyone else. But I have felt driven to wear eye liner and mascara in an effort to acquire compliments to feed the needy not-enough monster inside.

As I paused to think of my next thought, I suddenly realized that maybe I’ve come a bit farther on this journey than I had thought. There are many times when I look in the mirror and smile and say, “hello beautiful!” I can’t say that those instances outweigh the number of times I bash myself, BUT it’s progress, and I want to acknowledge that. 

I also want to acknowledge that obviously this post about beauty is written from the female perspective, about the female experience. It’s all I’ve ever known, so I cannot authentically write about what the male experience might be like. But what I do know is, there has never been a corset made to wrangle a beer belly, nor do the majority of men wear makeup, let alone even wash their face on the regular. I’m not implying that men don’t feel pressure about their weight and their looks, but I hope we can all agree that women take the brunt of this false belief system. 

Personally Hoping 

I’d like to believe that I can continue to chip away at these false flagellations, because honestly, I don’t think I can take another 40+ years of feeling not good enough. Sometimes I ponder what I would do with all the time I spend thinking about ways to improve my appearance, if I actually stopped doing it. Seriously, I would get back hours a day if I added it all up. How sad is that!? Those hours, which add up to days, weeks and even years of my life, have been stolen from me by our society. I wish I could get them back. I wish I could use my 5th grade thunder thighs to kick those body shaming boys on the playground. 

But I can’t. 

All I can do is vow to move forward with more love and acceptance for this magnificent body that carries me through the day. It’s my home, and it’s perfect. And from this point forward, anyone who implies otherwise, is getting run over by Thuss the Bus.