“You actually look cute for someone your size…”

“You actually look cute for someone your size.” This was the ‘compliment’ given to me this last weekend by a 5’1 size 2, DD-implant sporting, extension-wearing elf named “Krystal with a ‘K’”. My size? I didn’t really know how to react. I stared at her dumbfounded at the fact that she could manage to spew such vile words to a woman she had met just minutes before. My size? As if ‘my size’ was some unseen, unheard of and unimaginable mass. When I mentioned that I was a size 12, she seemed incredibly perplexed. It was as if she didn’t know what to do with a pretty-girl face on a size 12 body. This just can’t be!

 I spent this last weekend at Stagecoach, one of the largest country music festivals on the west coast, with this year’s attendance reaching close to 60,000. I, for one, am not a country music fan, but decided to attend the event to help out a friend. This event was packed with Daisy Duke wearing, breast baring bimbos (this is based on my two days spent at the fair, where I counted one in three women to fit this description), and sweet little Krystal with a K happened to be one of them.

I almost laughed when I saw the expression on Krystal’s face concerning my size. As the words size 12 made their way out of my mouth, her face seemed to morph into a frozen, terrified expression. She sized me up and looked at me as if I weighed 400 lbs, disgusted, yet somewhat intrigued. I was pretty sure that she was going to faint from the mere thought that my size was in the ‘double digits.’ (To be completely honest though, I wasn’t that worried about her falling down, as I was sure she would be generously cushioned by her ample $10,000-she told me the cost- breasts).

After Krystal and I finished our rousing seven minute-long conversation, she headed back to the bar to drink her astonishment away. After she left, I stayed in the VIP area bewildered: since when did it become acceptable to make such a comment to someone? What if we replaced ‘size’ with race, or gender, or age, or sex, or even sexual orientation? There would be an outcry that would spread across the United States, and finally, an anti-discriminatory bill would be set in motion. Yet, when referring to someone’s weight, it is tolerable and even sometimes suitable to say whatever is ‘necessary.’ How incredibly unfair is it that our society allows such filth to be a permissible topic of discussion.

I was encouraged to see that within five minutes of my conversation with Krystal, country singer Miranda Lambert took the stage. She is a beautiful singer who is proud of her size 6/8 body. She has made a statement that she is not willing to ‘sell out’ and transform her body for Hollywood. She has been on the country scene since 2003, and is doing very well for herself. Despite the ignorance that Krystal showed in our conversation, I was incredibly happy to see Lambert up on stage, belting out incredible songs, and swaying her curvy figure to the different melodies. Maybe there is some hope for the future…

 

The Skinny on Fat

           Today I woke up and it was just one of those mornings. My favorite pair of dress pants had miraculously shrunk overnight, my muffin top was extra muffin-y and my black shirt that hides all of my extra baggage was nowhere to be found. On top of it all, I had slept in and would now have to face an office full of coworkers with (what I perceived as) greasy hair. As I ran out the door I realized that I had just received my most recent issue of Glamour. I threw it in my purse and jumped into my Jeep.

On my lunch I sat at my desk and came across an article entitled “All-time Best Body Advice from Celeb Trainers.” While reading the first paragraph I saw that the first adage was that “Cardio alone will not give you a great body.” The trainer went on to say that with cardio alone, you will end up being ‘skinny-fat’, which according to the article meant ‘looking thin but lacking definition’. I’m not exactly sure how to react to this. I understand their point: if you want to maximize your workout, you must incorporate weight lifting into exercising, as to achieve the optimal results. I know what they are saying but I am beyond frustrated by how they say it.

S-K-I-N-N-Y …F-A-T! This must be an oxymoron.

This wasn’t my first encounter with skinny-fat. Earlier in the week I was watching Access Hollywood and Nancy O’Dell and Billy Bush were covering a story on this subject. The story focused on being ‘Summer-bikini-ready,’ and how women must not only be thin to look good in their bathing suits, but they must also be appropriately toned.

This skinny-fat phenomenon is completely frustrating to me. I feel like the message that this label is giving women is that once again, you’re not ok. Don’t be fooled into thinking that you are. Even if you are able to lose weight (let’s say through cardio exercises), being thin is still not good enough. You must be toned.

In my personal situation, it is completely exasperating to think that I may have lost all of this weight naturally, through exercise, yet if my body is not toned ‘enough’ by some unnatural standard; I’m still not considered good enough! So then what’s the point? When will I be good enough? What standard should I be measuring myself against? Is there a “one size fits all” body suitable for a 5’10 female? Should I base my entire self-worth on weight and BMI charts?!

I see how this definition of ‘skinny-fat’ can be applied to certain people (such as overly thin and emaciated supermodels) or actresses who simply starve themselves and not workout to lose their weight. But is it really appropriate to use the label ‘skinny-fat’? What message are we trying to send? If we are trying to relay the fact that we shouldn’t only be skinny, but also (in a healthy manner) toned/muscular, why can’t we just encourage ‘health’? Sorry Nancy and Billy, I don’t want to be skinny, I want to be healthy.

No longer the ‘safe friend…’

              Years ago, when Lindsay Lohan was still in her somewhat innocent phase- before Valderama drama and the Ronson monsoon, before rehab stints and DUI’s, she was an apparently sweet teen who starred in several movies that I actually tolerated. One of her bearable roles was in Tina Fey’s comedic hit, Mean Girls.

Besides lending our ears to new terms such as ‘fetch’ and ‘whelmed’, Mean Girls opened our eyes to a phenomena that has existed for years: cliquey girls that are, well, just mean. These girls don’t really have a reason to be mean; they just behave in that way for the sake and enjoyment of hurting others and bettering themselves. I’ve always seen these mean girls as existing from elementary school into junior high, and then finally reaching their peaks in high school. But what happens when these girls age (and not necessarily mature) and turn into what I loathe: mean women. Even more so, what happens when these mean women are your friends?

This trend of ‘frenemies’ (“we’re close friends, but we’re really enemies”) has been depicted in thought-provoking (!) TV shows such as Laguna Beach, The Hills, and the ultimate frenematic masterpiece, The Simple Life. The idea of frenemies has spawned from a very close friendship (such as the one between Paris Hilton and Nicole Ritchie) that turns sour. In almost every televised frenemalogical relationship, the friendship has been doomed due to one of two reasons: 1) a boy has come between a friendship, or 2) looks have come between a friendship.

In my personal life, I’ve experienced both. The former was experienced in my younger years, when hormones and boys ruled my life, but the latter has been an unfortunate recent saga. Having been ‘heavier’ for most of my life (ok, more like 100lbs overweight), I dealt with self-esteem issues. Like every other female, I loved my healthy dose of Cosmo, Glamour and Vanity Fair, and tried my hardest to live up to the beautifully airbrushed ideals that I saw on their covers. I was depressed when I realized that no matter what I did, I would never look like those women.

I finally lost my 100lbs excess in a healthy way; I joined Weight Watchers, completely changed my diet and began exercising regularly. In just over 13 months I lost the weight, and gained some much-needed confidence. I was thrilled to share my accomplishment with my friends, but would find out soon enough that not all of my friends were as thrilled for me.

Before my weight loss, I would go out dancing with my friends and their boyfriends and there would be no problem. After my weight loss, going out with my friends and their boyfriends changed: I went from being the ‘big girl’ to being the ‘tall blonde’ who got a lot of attention. It was clear to me that I was no longer the ‘safe friend’; the friend who all girlfriends could trust their boyfriends around because they knew their men would never hit on the fat girl. I was now competition.

Now, instead of being hidden between a group of girlfriends while trying to enter a club, I was the one who was pushed to the front of the line so as to flirt with the bouncer and gain early (and free) entrance without having to wait. It worked every time. In an odd way, some of my friends began to use me for their benefit. This never bothered me until my friends began to use it against me. They questioned my choice of makeup, my outfits (too provocative around their boyfriends!) and even my confidence. I soon realized that although I was in my mid-twenties, I was friends with some mean girls.

I’ve learned and grown from my experiences, but what I cannot shake is the angry feeling that some of my own girlfriends could not overlook their insecurities and be happy for one of their friends. They could not let go of their own selfishness and celebrate with a friends’ achievement who has struggled with her self-image for over 22 years. This has affected me more than I like to admit, but what can I say? You live and you learn…

I Won’t Deny What Mother Nature Provide…I Look Fabulous.

 I’m happy about the way I’m built. I’m 5’10, with wide hips, broad shoulders, measuring in at a healthy size 12. I’m happy with my looks; I love my hazel eyes, auburn hair and olive skin. To be honest, I really can’t complain. I am in no way perfect, but I am pleased. With this attitude, some people might view me as arrogant. Am I cocky? No. Confident? Yes.

Although I consider myself a poised and self-assured woman, I am not 100% satisfied with absolutely everything about my body. This is normal, yet what is most frustrating is when we (especially as women) are expected to feel dissatisfied about our bodies. Being happy with ourselves is not only abnormal, but according to our societal standards, it is also wrong. This encouraged, self-destructive behavior has a name- ‘normative discontent,’ which literally means that it is normal to be dissatisfied with our bodies. Is this really normal?

I was recently watching an old “Sex and the City” episode, where the girls are together having dinner at Carrie’s house. While opening their boxes of Chinese food, Miranda sits down, cross-legged on the ground and makes a comment about how she hates her thighs. Charlotte then follows, complaining about her jiggly arms, and Carrie adds to the stimulating conversation by criticizing her large nose. All three women then turn to the always-confident Samantha expecting to see what she will grumble about. Samantha, unaware of their expectations, puts down her chopsticks and responds by saying “What? I love the way I look!” The three women are left speechless, dumbfounded by their friend’s (perceived) haughtiness.

We might giggle at this popular HBO series, but in fact, this is no laughing matter. When did it become socially accepted and encouraged to tear down our own bodies? Why is it now considered strange to think that we are ‘ok’ the way we are? I can’t help but turn a disappointed finger to the media.

I’m disappointed for a variety of reasons, but my foremost complaint would have to be with the unrealistic reality that it depicts. Take America’s Next Top Model. Tyra Banks’ love-child program, which has apparently not yet run its course on national television, prides itself on selecting a variety of models from different backgrounds, races, beliefs, and, ta da….sizes! They have varied in their pick of the crop: sizes 00-4, and once in a while, allowing a slightly larger size to sneak in, appeasing the viewing audience.

Cycle 10 beauty Whitney Thompson defeated the ANTM odds when she was crowned winner- the first plus-size winner. There is one thing I must point out: Whitney is a size 10. A size TEN! I’m sorry, but since when is a 10 considered plus-size?! I will honor the fact that she was the ‘biggest’ girl on that season, but plus-size? Are you serious? TV news programs, entertainment programs, magazines and the entire fashion world applauded Tyra’s choice at not only incorporating Whitney into ANTM, but also dubbing her the winner. Am I the only one that is dumbfounded at the idea that a size 10 woman is considered to be plus-size? I cannot and will not agree with this.

What was even more disheartening about the season of ANTM is that, although Whitney was not that insecure about her (size 10!) curvy body, girls on the show made comments to put her down. Throughout the season Whitney also would complain about the way her breasts hung, or her arms bulged, pleasing the other contestants. How incredibly sad.

Yes, I will agree that television is making some very minor strides at incorporating people of different sizes on television; minor being a very major word here. But it isn’t enough; it isn’t enough when media is encouraging women to feel inadequate about their bodies and about their looks. So, for now, I will live by the old adage that should be on the lips of every woman: if you got it, flaunt it. Just as Maya Angelou reminds me, “phenomenally, phenomenal woman…that’s me.”

The adulteration of the female self worth

 

                Posh, Scary, Sporty, Ginger & Baby. I hate to say it, but I think the Spice Girls had it wrong. I mean, I’m all for “Girl Power” and all, but really, I think they were mistaken. Is power really power if we control it only by the opening and closing of our legs?

On August 26, 1920, the Nineteenth Amendment of the United States Constitution was adopted giving women the right to vote. Prior to that year, the Suffrage movement had been gaining momentum throughout the United States, as women became fed up with being second rate citizens, and in many cases, second rate human beings. As a developed American society, we believe that we have progressed far beyond those painfully restrictive years- but have we?

In her book, The Beauty Myth, Naomi Wolf addresses the issues that still have many women confined to a repressive state where their self worth is defined by their physical appearance. In today’s society (especially in Southern California), we emulate and idolize beautiful women; we place them on unreachable pedestals for young girls and women to look up to. We tell them that their breasts trump their brains, their weight trumps their worth, and that their lips trump their laughter. We objectify women without even realizing it, and sadly, we’re ok with this.

When it comes to our self perceptions, Wolf points out that in fact, “…how we feel about ourselves physically, we may actually be worse off than our unliberated grandmothers.” While reading this line, I can’t help but wonder if this is what suffragettes and pioneering feminists had in mind when they were fighting for women’s rights within America. Have we moved so far ahead in our ‘liberation’ that in fact we are reeling backwards? Are we simply too lazy to move out from under the glass ceiling because it’s a comfortable place to be? Should the glass ceiling even be an issue if we choose to stay under it? Why is it that we have allowed our own beauty to hinder and deceive us?

As women, we are constantly allowing our identities to be defined and based upon our looks. Sadly, we have fallen so far from where we should be as powerful human beings, that at times I wonder if we will ever even (re)gain the treatment and respect that we deserve.

 

Who is the beholder in the eye of beauty?

Turn on the TV. Flip through a magazine. Log on to Facebook. If you do ANY of these three things, you will be instantly reminded that our culture is obsessed, crazed and even possessed with the idea of perfect beauty. In our superficial North American culture, beauty stretches to so much more than just a pretty face. The hair, the teeth, the body, the clothes, the style, the smell, the attitude and even the persona all constitute this notion of what it means to be beautiful. Perfectly beautiful.

But what is beauty?

“The quality present in a thing or person that gives intense pleasure or deep satisfaction to the mind, whether arising from sensory manifestations (as shape, color, sound, etc.), a meaningful design or pattern, or something else (as a personality in which high spiritual qualities are manifest)” (from dictionary.com).

Can beauty in itself be measured? Can we really have a standard for beauty? A guidebook? Can we have a universal understanding of all things beautiful? In my humble opinion, no.

I was watching Oprah a couple of weeks ago, and the episode was about women from around the world and what they considered beautiful. It followed women from different countries, showed what their beauty regiments were, and interviewed them about what the men in their countries looked for in a woman. To my astonishment, the answers varied quite a bit.

The women that caught my attention were from the Northwest African country of Mauritania. These women were intriguing, and they were, by our standards, fat. When asked what was desired in a Mauritanian woman, the representative laughed and answered “plump, with stretch marks, and if possible, divorced.” (Divorcees are seen as women who are desired by many men, and are therefore sought after).

Mauritania has a history of fattening its girls to make them more attractive (the practice is called ‘gavage’), which in turn can have a negative effect on their health if fattened too much. I am in no way promoting the idea of unhealthy binge eating or gorging, but this notion of what is considered beautiful in Mauritania has made me think. Why is it that the men of Mauritania prefer that their women be (quite) corpulent? Is it possible that not every country on this earth considers the unattainable (and not to mention unhealthy) stick figure to be the ideal? Could there really be other countries that prefer women of different shapes and sizes?

This weighty issue has always been close to my heart, both figuratively and literally. Being an avid consumer of various types of media, I am constantly bombarded with images of what I should look like. There are days when I wake up and look in the mirror and see a beautiful, confident woman smiling back. But there are those dark days when I can’t even bear to look in the mirror. I am plagued with insecurities. Why can’t my skin be as clear as Hayden Panettiere’s? Why isn’t my hair as shiny as Megan Fox’s? Why isn’t my body as proportionately curvy as Beyonce’s? Even after brushing and whitening, why aren’t my teeth as white Adriana Lima’s? Why doesn’t my skin glow like Eva Mendes’?

By our standards, all of these women are considered sex symbols and representatives of the ideal female. I flip through the most recent editions of In Style, People, Vanity Fair and Star and cannot help but to compare myself to their airbrushed reflections. Do I have low self esteem? No. Is my vision skewed? Yes.

I am honest in appreciating a beautiful woman, whether a celebrity or not. But I consider it a problem when only a certain ideal of beauty is accepted by our society. We need to broaden our understanding of what we recognize as beautiful and adequate. We must educate ourselves to no longer fall prey to the unattainable ideal.

So…I’m new at this…

Hello blogging world!
This is the first time that I’ve ever had a blog- I’m excited, yet slightly apprehensive. I feel that I’ve got so much to learn, so bear with me.

Most of my blogs will be about my passion: aesthetics and the world of entertainment.

Stay tuned…the world is at my fingertips.
B