You’d Be Really Pretty If You Wore Makeup
After reading a recent article about body shaming, I started thinking about how culturally acceptable the casual body-shame has become. As a 5'9 woman+ some extra ticks on the door frame, I have had an aerial view of this since I was a very tall, very awkward child. Subtle body shaming and backhanded compliments are my bread and butter, and I started to ask myself why?
Why is it OK to comment at all — good or bad—purely on someone’s unalterable physical characteristics? That’s not to say that I think paying someone a compliment is wrong, but finding too much validation purely on your physical appearance can be a difficult bar to set for your happiness.
Why is it OK? I thought about that question, and decided to apply it to my top 4 most memorable subtle (and not so subtle) body-shaming experiences…as an experiment of reflection on intention, effect, and perhaps the core of what has embedded this in our culture as acceptable.
- “You‘d be really pretty if you wore make-up”
When I was 16, I worked after school at a retail make-up and beauty products supply store. The work was minimal, the pay was decent, and I got discounts on lip balm, so it was a no-brainer. There were professional make-up artists who also worked there giving the down-trotten suburban housewives of central New Jersey make overs while collecting their commission. I loved watching the make overs because it really seemed to bring some clients genuine happiness. When they didn’t have time for themselves, it felt good to be pampered — even if it was only for 30 minutes between errands, and cost over $100 worth of supplies that they would likely not use again. Regardless, I loved seeing these women leaving with a sense of confidence that they lacked when they first arrived. Quite simply, they felt beautiful…and who doesn’t want that?
I was going to a school dance and one of my coworkers offered to do my make-up for the event. I figured, why not? Maybe a make-up mask would give me the confidence I saw in those women time after time. As the make-up artist painted my face, covering my imperfections, and coating my face with primer and glitter (hey, it was the early 2000s!), she said “You know, you‘d be really pretty if you wore make up.” I remember kind of agreeing with her, eager to see my new “pretty” face. She didn’t mean it as an insult, and I didn’t even take it as one at that point. Collections of these small moments become normalized and we tend to accept them rather than question them. When she turned the chair around, I didn’t recognize the person in the mirror. I was uncomfortable with all the face fanfare, and overwhelmed with all my coworkers gawking over how “pretty” I looked. I scurried out to my car to take a closer look in the visor mirror of my 98 Blazer. I remember feeling a sadness that I didn’t expect. One that perhaps the women who came in for their make overs felt once they were home, alone with their own mirrors, and their own realities. This person, who looked nothing like me, was deemed the most beautiful I could be, and at 16 years old I accepted that as truth.
2. “You finally lost that weight! Good. Now you can start eating again”
God bless my incredibly blunt and endlessly entertaining Irish Grandmother. I think of this quote with a huge smile on my face because, well, it’s hilarious. (Disclaimer: She also has been quoted saying that she was fearful that I would be kidnapped (at 22 years old) because I was so cute.) As with my Grandma’s praise and accidental insults, our society is all over the map.
In all seriousness however, this is a perfect example of the insanely small margin for error we set for ourselves when it comes to the natural fluctuation of weight in our bodies. I was about 14 when my Grandma said this to me, and I definitely had not gained and or lost any weight on purpose. I was basically a woman/child hybrid where my limbs were long but my torso was still a child. Bad bangs, brown lipstick, overalls and platform sneakers in tow, my weight was the least of my problems. Regardless, I am no Beyonce, so there isn’t a constant update on my physical appearance in the media, but social media has made the internet a stalker’s delight for laymans and celebs alike. And I don’t mean that in an old school hiding in the bushes stealing shirts that smell like people way — I mean that in a whoops I slipped into a Facebook hole stalking my ex’s cousin’s third cousin’s wife and comparing myself to Instafamous fitness models way. There is such a competitive nature to validate ourselves through “likes” based on our appearance, and it’s affecting how we see each other as people, and how we present ourselves to the world.
I lost 20 pounds in one summer after a difficult break up. No, I was not working out, eating kale, and taking my supplements. I was depressed, too nauseous to eat, and living off of wine, Netflix, and an occasional bagel bite. All that said, I did not look good. Yes, I was thinner, but despite the emotional pain I was in, it seemed that that was the only thing people noticed. With time and healing, I came to accept that a body is just the suit a person comes in, and those empty compliments on my appearance did far less for my self-esteem than healing myself from the inside out.
3. “I would never date you. You’re way too tall.”
I know, right? I bet you’re thinking this was someone that I was interested in and threw myself at. Wrong. This one came out of an acquaintance that I honestly like and think of as a good person. He did not say this to hurt or insult me, but these unprompted declarations of value based on physical attributes has really become the norm. I responded with “Oh please you would climb me like a tree,” and we both laughed.
The question does remain however, why is it OK to vocalize whether or not someone would be desirable enough for you to sleep with in casual conversation? Realistically, that is what we are talking about here. Let’s put the shoe on the other foot. Let’s say, that same night, at that same bar, I approached a man shorter than me and said “I would never date you. You are too short for me.” I would expect and deserve the response of “Um, no one asked you,” followed by “What a bitch.” But why wasn’t that my reaction? Is it because woman sterotypically are meant to be smaller, weaker, meeker and submissive to men? Should my height threaten a man’s masculinity? It shouldn’t, of course, but it is something to consider when analyzing where exactly became engrained in our culture.
I obviously can not help my height with the exception of cutting myself off at the shins and shoving my stumps into a sexy pair of stilettos to have the right height where I am not intimidating, but I am able to wear heels to appear more feminine…. which brings me to the next quote in my line-up…
4. “Did you see her? She’s huge!”
Right?! So this one came from a stranger I had met while having drinks at a beautiful rooftop bar in Philadelphia with my girlfriends. We were sitting at a table and this man approached and struck up a conversation, bringing his brigade of bros with him. They seemed nice enough so they sat down and joined us. (Guys — To be fair, I know how hard it is to approach a group of women at a bar. We can be vicious…so props for that alone.)
After about 15 minutes of chatting, I excused myself to head to the bathroom, as my friends were at the bar ordering more drinks. As I stood up to walk away, I realized I’d left my purse on the table. Now, I was only about 3 steps away, so it was a quick turn-around. When I turned I heard the man who had just spent a good 15 minutes being seemingly charming and friendly, laughing at me with his friends. “Dude, did you see her when she stood up? She’s huge!” It should be noted that I saw how tall this man was when he approached the table. Yes, he was shorter than me, but when he came to me with intelligent and engaging conversation, I certainly wasn’t going to base my interest or disinterest in him on that. Unfortunately, I can not say the same for him. It seemed that my height was almost a source of embarrassment for him…as if he felt foolish for hitting on such a “huge” woman. And so, due to his insecurity, I had somehow become the butt of a joke based on how I looked.
I’d love to tell you that I handled this with grace and dignity, butttttttt instead I’ll tell you the truth. Let’s just say that once I was done, that man, nay — boy, felt like the smallest person in the world. Not because I stooped to a level of height shaming, but because I vocalized how sorry I felt for him. Realistically, that comment and joke at my expense was his way of coping with feeling inadequate in some sense. So, I let him own that pain, and tried not to take it on as my own.
Now, I know these are picked examples from my personal experiences as a woman, but my intention here is to spark a conversation that moves towards denormalizing these subtle shamings, and redefining what is acceptable.
Body-shaming women has recently gotten pretty significant coverage in the media, and is generally considered taboo behavior outright. (Unless you hold the highest political office in the world, but that’s another conversation.) However, there are so many versions of body shaming that it is important to challenge ourselves to be more present..to own our intention, and articulate our truth with thoughtfulness.
We have a long way to go..and that includes the less newsworthy male body-shaming. I’ve noticed in relationships, it seems to be acceptable for a woman to comment on a man’s weight, joking about his 6-pack beer belly, etc. However, if a man were to make that same “harmless” joke to his wife, it would be considered completely out of line. Perhaps there is an (unfounded) stereotype that men aren’t as sensitive about their bodies — that women, the “more emotional” gender have thinner skin and must be coddled more emotionally. All of these assumptions are just that — assumptions.
I guess the answer to my question is that it’s not. It is not OK. The dialogue needs to change. We need to start treating each other as people. Not bodies, not sexes, but people. When it comes down to it, our culture reflects who we are, and I want to like what I see in the mirror.
