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Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Double Standards

Is it sad that I'm so baffled by this quest for perfection in others?
I think this whole journey has led me to have a strange appreciation for the natural.
I imagine finding a woman and falling in love (to those of you who haven't followed me through the turmoil, my preferences tend to classify me as "lesbian", though I am open to the idea of falling in love with a man...women are so much more attractive to me). I imagine what she'd look like--and she's not skinny. Not by any of the modern accepted means. I imagine a size 14 or 16, maybe an 8 or 12. Soft stomach, soft legs, full breasts, and long hair. I think of how she'd feel in my arms, without a hint of bone, and imagine how she'd look with a smile on her face, or a flutter of insecurity at her own appearance before I convince her with every touch and kiss that she's perfect just the way she is.
That she shouldn't change.
That she shouldn't ever try to change, because her body is perfect to me.

I want to see her happy.
I imagine as we get older together, the way her face will alter. The wrinkles at the corner of her eyes, the slight thinning of the lips. I wonder if her fingers will become rough on the palms from work, or if she'll take up knitting or something that seems, as of now, like a ridiculous pursuit by older women. Crosswords, sudoku, or water aerobics at the rec center. I picture myself carefully massaging her hands when age begins to make them ache, or laughing at the wrinkle creams she brings home and telling her that I wish she wouldn't bother--every line on her face is there as a sign of the life she lived, and I'd like to think I had a hand in putting them there, especially the laugh lines.
I picture her in her forties, early fifties. Her hair is starting to gray, and I become obsessed with running my fingers through it. Even now, the thought of it makes me feel delighted--of aging with someone. Of seeing someone I love remain natural, confident, and beautiful.
I imagine older. Seventies. Eighties.
There's walkers. Perhaps an assisted living facility. She's got the face of a grandmother now, and so do I, and I love every inch of her just as much as I loved her in our youth.
I can see how she'd scoff and shake her head as I whisper to her the truth, "You've grown more beautiful every day that I've loved you..."

I see women who are older. Women who are young and fuller.
They want to change themselves. Botox, plastic surgery, starving, diets, constant self hatred...
...I want to tell them to stop.
I smile sadly because they won't believe me if I tell them, "Do you realize how perfect you are right now? How beautiful you are?"
If they loved themselves a little more, focused on being healthy a little more,
they'd stop suffering.
They'd learn what it meant to be healthy, rather than skinny.
They'd change the face of media.
You can't force the marketers to do it.
It's an internal thing.
They won't change their adverts until we change ourselves.
And we won't change ourselves, until we love ourselves.

I imagine being with a woman who is beautiful, and soft.
A woman who is...everything I'm not. Everything I don't want to be.
I want to be skinny.
I want to have plastic surgery on my chest.
I worry now about wrinkles. 23 years old and I obssess about grays.
I wonder why it is that I find in others beauty, when in myself, I see a monster....?

Perhaps because I cannot see me.
So it makes others all the more clear.

Who knows.


  1. I have been going through this EXACT same thinking process. My boyfriend always tells me that the thing he loves most about a woman is her softness and starving myself to become thin would essentially rob me of a part of my femininity.
    The only thing is, I'm not sure if I care if men stop looking at me. I want it for myself.

    Stay strong and keep posting!

    XOXO Sophia Ruins <3

  2. ♥♥♥

    Words cannot express how much I loved this post. We tend to hold ourselves to these sky-high, unrealistic expectations yet we celebrate the flaws of others. We find those physical imperfections unique, beautiful even, yet if we look in the mirror we take what we see and transmute it into something repulsive. Self-love is the rarest form of romance, isn't it?


  3. It's not sad, not even a little bit, that you think this way. It's very deep and mature and... what's the word? Shows compassion I guess is close to what I'm trying to say. Nobody ever really sees themselves clearly; I think it's a journey that everyone goes through in life. Maybe someday you'll wake up and spontaneously think "I'm perfect just the way I am" or maybe that woman you find will be telling you all of the same things you want to tell her. Maybe that will make it click for you. I have no idea, since I'm not there myself yet, either.

    I don't really think it counts as a double standard if you apply it to yourself ;)

    Stay strong love


  4. I feel the same way when I hear my friends talk about themselves negatively, I wish they knew how beautiful they are. And I think about the future sometimes, and it hurts to think that if I had a daughter, she might feel like I do.

  5. this is a super beautiful and inspiring post.

  6. PrettyWreck, you are eloquent and beautiful in the way you speak.

    I imagine these things too. And I stress and my over people who cut and starve themselves, but usually barely bat an eyelash at myself doing the same.
    I want to fall in love with a girl who is beautiful and curvy and soft. When I have become hollow and bony, I'll curl up against her and be comfortable in her skin.
    The person I love (who, might I add, doesn't love me back) is this way.

    PrettyWreck, I admire your morals and your beauty. I don't know what you look like, but I know from the way you speak you must be, whether or not that includes the outside. And yes, I agree with you. It's so sad that people(/we) hurt ourselves all to be something else, when extra weight means delicious meals eaten, when wrinkles mean a full life lived, and when flaws mean there are strengths. It's very sad, especially when only sixty years ago people seemed to love themselves so much more.

  7. One word: Wow.

    And I think we as women in society do have this power, it's just that the thought of "revolting" against the media and becoming more comfortable with ourselves, scares the crap out of us. (It does to me

    Im weak in a way, so to speak. All I've (and probably a lot of us in this blogging community),have ever heard when getting comments about our bodies, are things like your "ok", but still not "good enough". If only we could get over that, then maybe we'll find some peace and happiness in ourselves...?

    Anywhoo, really toaching post. Gave me lots to think about...

    L8er fabulouse! :D

  8. /sigh
    You nearly made me cry. What a beautiful thought. I don't know what else to say. I feel your point very deeply.

    Maybe you are capable of loving in a way that you have never been loved. Truly unconditionally and completely.

    So sad and so sweet.

  9. Yes, I see so much beauty in others, in their faces, clean and fresh from make up...
    but mine always so dull and gross, that I must always cover it and cake it, and
    cry myself sick because I look so old, at 22,
    that I look so ugly the way nature made me...
    Thank you for always saying things so perfectly x x x

  10. This post is beautiful. I love the way you manipulate the words to do your bidding.


  11. The description about growing old with someone is completely how I feel.

  12. I think many of us see and love all the beauty in others; love others as they are; wish them all the happiness and satisfaction of their figure and freedom, without the chains of loathing and the agony of each waking moment, caught in the sleek web of deception and the yearning for fragility.

    I know you will find her (or him). I imagine her as well, and I want her to be as happy with me as I will be with her. Sometimes I feel as if I am a curse; most of all to myself. Only time will tell.

  13. I feel the same way (except for the lesbian part)about the women I see around me. I went to a hot spring where the pools are gender divided and the bathing is nude. I saw so many women who were bigger than I am, size 12, 14, 16 with soft flesh, curves, hardly any muscle definition, no ribs or sternum bones showing. And they were glowing, gorgeous, amazing. I felt so incredibly jealous of how feminine, and warm they looked.

    At the same time, I won't ever allow myself to be that size, to be that soft, to be that...womanly.

    Oh, and hullo to you.

    I wonder why?

  14. It made me so happy reading you describe that all :) <3