For all girls
I am a well adjusted person. I'm happy with myself and comfortable with my body. I am confident. And yet, I still believe - completely and utterly - that my life would be better if I were beautiful.
I am not unattractive. I have a good body and nice features. I have a family, a boyfriend and friends that tell me I'm beautiful all the time. I have no reason to suffer lack of confidence or low self-esteem. Yet I still fantasize about being better looking. I kid myself into believing that all my problems would disappear along with my supposed physical 'flaws'. Have we reached such an impass in society nowadays, that the way a person looks determines their future happiness? I think the answer would be yes. It may not be true, but we all believe it. Magazines and columnists rant and rave all the time about how young girls are pressured and manipulated by the media into thinking they have to look a certain way to lead a good life, but no-one ever actually does anything about it. It's still the Charlize Therons, Halle Berrys and Mischa Bartons of this world that adorn beauty ads and that are displayed to the public as pin-ups of perfection. Gossip magazines gasp and shudder at the size of Nicole Ritchie's waist or Lindsay Lohan's arms. But whilst they're exclaiming, they're printing picture after picture, forcing their images upon us, and giving those celebrities attention, thereby feeding the subconcious idea that the skinnier you are, the more people are interested in you. What is wrong with womankind? Instead of celebrating individual beauty, we pick holes in each other. Best and worst dressed, who's got fat, who has had surgery - we're all guilty of it. Magazines are pumped full of articles about miraculous beauty products that make us look more like Cameron or Julia. Why?
The saddest thing is, I've written this angry, feminist rant, but later today before I leave for dinner, I will do the following: Change out of my comfy hoodie and jogging bottoms for something more fitted and a pair of jeans. Comb my hair. Probably I'll put on some make-up and even perfume. For thirty minutes of sitting in the canteen. Not for men, but so I can 'hold my head high' amongst the other girls, because it is they who will judge me. It's a pathetic state of affairs and I don't see it changing anytime soon.
If only boys had half these problems.
I am not unattractive. I have a good body and nice features. I have a family, a boyfriend and friends that tell me I'm beautiful all the time. I have no reason to suffer lack of confidence or low self-esteem. Yet I still fantasize about being better looking. I kid myself into believing that all my problems would disappear along with my supposed physical 'flaws'. Have we reached such an impass in society nowadays, that the way a person looks determines their future happiness? I think the answer would be yes. It may not be true, but we all believe it. Magazines and columnists rant and rave all the time about how young girls are pressured and manipulated by the media into thinking they have to look a certain way to lead a good life, but no-one ever actually does anything about it. It's still the Charlize Therons, Halle Berrys and Mischa Bartons of this world that adorn beauty ads and that are displayed to the public as pin-ups of perfection. Gossip magazines gasp and shudder at the size of Nicole Ritchie's waist or Lindsay Lohan's arms. But whilst they're exclaiming, they're printing picture after picture, forcing their images upon us, and giving those celebrities attention, thereby feeding the subconcious idea that the skinnier you are, the more people are interested in you. What is wrong with womankind? Instead of celebrating individual beauty, we pick holes in each other. Best and worst dressed, who's got fat, who has had surgery - we're all guilty of it. Magazines are pumped full of articles about miraculous beauty products that make us look more like Cameron or Julia. Why?
The saddest thing is, I've written this angry, feminist rant, but later today before I leave for dinner, I will do the following: Change out of my comfy hoodie and jogging bottoms for something more fitted and a pair of jeans. Comb my hair. Probably I'll put on some make-up and even perfume. For thirty minutes of sitting in the canteen. Not for men, but so I can 'hold my head high' amongst the other girls, because it is they who will judge me. It's a pathetic state of affairs and I don't see it changing anytime soon.
If only boys had half these problems.