Face Value

My family is defined by strong women. From my 100 year-old great-grandmother to my five year old bossypants, we’ve learned how to adapt and flourish in most any given situation. That said, we are far from perfect. I am fairly convinced that I could solve the nation’s budget crisis and/or avert a global disaster, and they would still look at me and say – “That’s nice, but you look like you’re carrying a little extra weight.” They’ll probably temper that by saying something like, “It’s not a big deal. It’s really only at your hips. Oh, you’ll lose that in no time.” My response to this kind of thing is typically, “Look in the mirror, fatty. It’s your genetics I’m dealing with. Thanks a bunch.” (Ah, we ‘re kidders.) This kind of criticism doesn’t come from a spiteful place, and I’m sure they think this is beneficial to some degree. However, I know the male members of my family never have to endure it, and it is endlessly frustrating that my aesthetic qualities trump all else.

One benefit of the family is that the criticism will be given to you outright. As for female friends, it will likely be discussed at length after you’ve departed. I hate this about women. This mentality creates an unspoken competition between friends that I’ve observed in my own experience and seen through watching other people - mainly my three sisters. You almost can’t avoid being involved, despite the fact that you hate it. (Although, there are some truly base characters out there who thrive on this.) The fascinating, or diabolical, offshoot of this dynamic is the evolution of a market based entirely on female insecurity. The level of intricacy involved in beauty treatments now is overwhelming. You can be sugared, waxed, threaded, plucked, steamed . . . the list is endless and ever-growing. (And often obscenely painful.) Grab any fashion magazine and open to the section on beauty products. If you’re like me, you’ll feel lost. I actually recall reading a short how-to on applying self-tanner and bronzing your fingers – you know, so it blends in with the rest of your body. Every miniscule aspect of the female body is criticized, and a whole industry is capitalizing on this criticism and the behaviors that stem from it. For a hilariously perfect encapsulation of this, I suggest you watch the below:

Not so long ago, I read an interview with Angelina Jolie in which she talked about the time she felt most beautiful in her life. She described being in Africa. She had to shave her head for a film, and so fussing with her hair was of no concern. Her time there was spent with no makeup, clothes worn only because they were comfortable in the heat, and with no one to impress. Perhaps similarly, I remember sitting in the bus on the way home from soccer games in high school - dripping with sweat, hair pulled back haphazardly, dirty, and often a little bruised. (I took great pride in my bigger bruises.) It was such a great feeling. I knew that no one on that bus gave a damn how I looked and I didn’t care that they looked equally as disheveled. That’s probably the last time in my life I felt like that. Now, it’s all smoke and mirrors.

I recently had to give a presentation and this involved getting all prettied up – I even blow-dried my hair. (If your hair is as thick as mine, you can understand why this is such a feat.) I knew this probably wouldn’t happen again for the next two months. If all goes as planned, I’ll walk away from here graduating (with honors, likely) and hopefully in time, a published paper or two. I know I should feel pleased having done this and taken care of my daughter and her various needs. And I will feel pleased. But I’d be lying if I said that the female sniping that will surely come my way when I come back a little worse for the wear as far as my outward appearance goes – won’t diminish that slightly.

I’ve never eavesdropped on a male conversation. If I had to guess what the guys talk about, I would venture to guess it involved sports, hot women, and . . . yeah, I’ve got nothing else there. I can’t imagine one man walking away from a table, while the other parties start talking like, “Hey, is it just me or is he looking a little rough? Like, what’s up with those bags under his eyes? And somebody’s totally been skipping the gym.” Further, I’m pretty sure the discussion of hot girls doesn’t involve “That girl has the best eyebrows I’ve ever seen.” Or, “she looks like she exfoliates.”

I’m not planning to Jolie-out and shave my head anytime soon, but I really need a break from this. Criticize me at your own risk.