I’m becoming increasingly frustrated.
With women feeling defensive, myself included, about the beauty of their aging (or aged) bodies. It’s all the rage now — women taking it all off, flaunting their bodily imperfections in the name of self-expression. Art, if you will. Then dialoguing about the damage societal perceptions of beauty have caused the psyches of these smart, beautiful females in conjunction with the self-deprecating videos and “artistic” photographs they display.
That is not to say the frustrations of these women aren’t legitimate. They most definitely are. The world at large is a tough crowd to please.
I, too, have bought into the self-love wave, although not fully, as I remain slave to my weekly beauty regimen, trying to attract love into my life in the best and only way I know how – through my appearance.
I convince myself I’m beautiful despite my flaws. And there are many. I encourage others to do the same for themselves. Yet I continue to fall prey to the pressure of living up to and maintaining an idealistic image of how an attractive woman should look. Because I feel, I know, I have no choice despite all the brouhaha about embracing inner beauty.
Imperfectly perfect vaginas, whatever the hell that means.
Therapeutic photography, otherwise known as the only standard by which I will ever be a model.
Celebrations of imperfect bodies, like my own, photographed in dim lighting, pretty vignettes and at flattering angles.
Calculated portrayals.
I’m 42 years old. Divorced. I’m a single mother. I’m flawed. But I’m also in love with love – in love with finding someone to love and with finding someone to love me, the true me.
The evolved version of myself knows I’m doing it wrong. Luring men from the outside in. Maybe that makes me inauthentic. A phony. But I can’t stop. Insult and rejection await me if I do. Or, even worse, invisibility.
It’s not that I’m bitter or disillusioned. I actually wish I were disillusioned. It’s that I’m tired of apologizing. Apologizing for who I am, under the pretense of a burgeoning self-esteem.
In fact, I think the exact opposite is true.
As I write this I am being asked to forward “sexy” pictures of myself to a 45 year-old (so he claims) gentleman with whom I am texting through the dating app, Tinder. After immediately rebuking him, I am being further advised that sending additional photos will be my only hope of securing a date. Dismiss him and I will have to “just continue to settle for the mediocre losers.”
Warning duly noted, sir, but I shall respectfully decline your offer anyway.
Though I can’t say I wasn’t tempted to send photos. Only not the ones he was expecting.
That brainchild came to me after viewing Jacky O’Shaughnessy’s piece for Elisa Goodkind and Lily Mandelbaum’s What’s Underneath Project, a series created to celebrate the individual and authentic styles men and women exude when they have grown comfortable in their own skin.
In it, the current face of American Apparel, 62 year-old O’Shaughnessy, slowly undresses for the camera as she bares all, sharing both her physical and emotional vulnerabilities with her Internet audience. Describing her then 52 year-old boyfriend’s refusal to be seen publicly with her because of her advanced age while dating him five years earlier, it’s understandable why she feels compelled to sit in that chair, justifying her worthiness. Her pain is palpable.
“I’m here,” she figuratively waves to the world. “Please… see me. The real me,” we can hear her say, though these words never once pass her blood red lips.
For a few moments during a series such as this one, that wish may come true.
That’s because each and every one of us is beautiful, O’Shaughnessy and myself included. If we are enlightened enough, we may actually see it for ourselves, in ourselves. Unfortunately for women, too many men do not, despite our protests to the contrary.
I appreciate the intent of this body of work. The message it seeks to convey. The change it tries to engender.
But once the cameras fade to black, I’m afraid so, too, does the message.
Because I can pretty much guess what the response will be should I send my new pen pal a “sexy” photo of my bare stomach, scarred with stretch marks acquired during three pregnancies, or a seductive shot of myself without my makeup on or my hair styled. Though I’m proud of and grateful for the work my body has done thus far, I know there are many others who will not share with me that same appreciation.
Oscar Wilde once said, “Life imitates Art far more than Art imitates Life.” I can’t say that I disagree. Current standards of beauty and style are, arguably, not always artistic. It is here I agree with Goodkind’s contention that the fashion industry has, in many ways, lost its creativity and, hence, its embrace and accurate depiction of individual style. But where I differ is in my proposed handling of it.
I say we stop pleading our case. We stop defending ourselves. We stop grandstanding. And we start loving ourselves without seeking the rest of the world’s approval.
Then I say, grab YOUR camera.
And the next time some middle-aged guy demeans you based on your appearance, point that lens at HIM, and ask that dude to sit squarely on a stool while he undresses and declare to the world how much he adores his sagging testicles, his thinning hair, and his flabby gut.
My guess is he won’t be so quick to jump on the bandwagon.
Ladies, please. Get a hold of yourselves. Put your clothes back on and show some self-respect. These endless public displays are becoming no less fictitious than the beauty myths they seek to dispel. Authenticity means living your life knowing who you are and having the wherewithal to do so without exposing yourself to the same scrutiny such efforts are meant to curtail.
With that in mind, I silently bid my digital pen pal farewell. And spoke volumes about myself.
How do you feel about your body?
- 5 Reasons I Finally Made Peace With My Muffin Top
- Embracing Our Middle-Aged Bodies On The Road To Self-Love
- Online Dating Profile Pictures: How Much Do We Expose Ourselves?
Nutrition Facts – 100% MILF
Image courtesy of Stylelikeu
Hi! Thanks for your article. I am in much the same boat as you, also 42 years old and divorced. Here’s my advice- don’t use Tinder! I know Tinder provides a “quick fix” of attention and coffee dates, but the entire app is based on appearances. I’m sure there are some evolved men on there, but more often than not you are going to be dealing with people like the 45-year-old you encountered. And if you insist on staying on that app, when someone asks you to send more photos, just delete them, don’t get into a dialogue with them. You know where its going to go- with you feeling badly about yourself! Screw that! Just block those people immediately without a word and move on. Once they ask for the sexy photos is already over, and you know that- not because of your looks but because they have displayed their crass personality, a dealbreaker! (I hope) I mean, if that 45 year old was so fantastic and such a stud he wouldn’t have to “lower himself” to asking 42 year old women for sexy photos- he would have all of the 25 year old hotties swiping right on his profile. In general, your engergy seems very “apologetic”, and I don’t think that is helping you find the partner you are looking for. You don’t have to apologize for not looking perfect, being 42 or having 3 kids. I feel like you dwell on these issues in your mind and it may be causing you to attract people into your life who see these as negatives even though none of these features about you are, actually, negative- and it happens that Tinder is full of such people.
Tinder is like anything else, a vehicle for finding a needle in a haystack. I’m certain there are many men who have a lot to say about the women they encounter as well. This man received nothing from me except a denial, and when I did so he came back again requesting the photos. Fortunately for me, I have actually never felt better about my appearance than I do today. I think it is a sad state of affairs when women feel they must defend how they look. As you say, delete (online and/or from your life) and move on. Know who and how wonderful you are. Thank you so much for reading and commenting.
Hi Sophie, this piece is so powerfully written. I love the Style Like U series. They also feature men on the series, undressing and baring their vulnerabilities, too. I loved Jackie’s interveiw and found it inspiring. I think the fact that they strip down to underwear (not completely nude) is really cool because we see all the different body types and the fact that these people are comfortable in their ‘skin’. Sharing their past insecurities or current ones only makes them more relatable. I would watch this over a Vogue shoot anyday (where they are sometimes almost nude). Great piece, Sophie!
Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts:)