Ah, beauty...

It occurs to me, while perusing various articles and blogs and so forth, that I am something of an anomaly when it comes to self-image. I exist alongside a culture where female sexuality is simultaneously lauded and degraded, and despite being able to see how that constant barrage of conflicting concepts could mess with the mind of a younger and impressionable girl--and less charitably, a weak-willed woman of any age--I just... don't hear it.

All that I can glean from that strange parallel world is misery and self-loathing, punctuated with the occasional desperate bit of hope that one has, perhaps, managed to live up to an ideal that she did not make on her own, or even tailor to her tastes.

As an aside, one thing that I absolutely adore about the proliferation of steampunk and neo-Victorian style is that they've done much to breathe a bit of class into the world and--I suspect--made at least a few ladies realise that one need not go the route of looking like a cheap prostitute in order to beguile onlookers. I mean, really; what manner of mate do these people think they're going to attract by showing as much flesh as they can get away with?

Anyway. My initial point was that all of that cultural garbage just seems to fly past my head with no effect beyond a raised eyebrow, and I am infinitely happier for it--and that seems to be a state that many mothers of young girls want their daughters to grow up in.

So, I'll say this much: Don't tell her she's pretty. Nurture and laud her brain, for crying out loud.


And occasionally wear studded leather bracers. I think that helps a bit, too.

Beauty and a Great Many Beasts

Various people hold a great many different ideals of female beauty. That in itself does not bother me; quite the contrary. What I find irritating is the fact that so many people seem to tout their ideal as the right one--not just visually, but morally.

Health nuts who are not open to the possibility of seeing cuteness in a plump girl and would claim that she was doing herself a disservice by not exercising more--oh, and how unhappy she must be! Fat grrl activists who would look at someone my size and want to cram five hamburgers down her throat because she's clearly starving herself for the benefit of chauvinist pigs.

(I'd balance that out with something from the pro-skinny crowd, but I can't imagine what they're trying to sell, morally speaking. "Gluttony is evil", perhaps?)

It's all the same bullshit, regardless of who it's being thrown by, and the stench is the same: I want you to change and conform to my ideals, because there is something wrong with you. The fact is that human beings are not all created equal, body types are different, and not everyone has to overcome the same problems when staring down at a scale.

Predictably enough, bile directed at scrawny folk is the sort that aggravates me the most, and it has very little to do with having my size derided. It's invariably tinged with condescension, or at best, misplaced concern--and it's rude on a completely different level. Asking a thin woman if she has an eating disorder is about as polite as asking an overweight one if she has a gland problem, and there is often the added implication that she is that size because she's desperately trying to fit a societal ideal. I realise that most of these people mean well, but have they considered the possibility that it is none of their business?

Not everyone is making an effort to be the size and shape that they happen to be. Yes, that thought may well be salt in the wound to someone who is, but having struggled with your own weight does not give you carte blanche to tell someone else what to do with her body.