F*** the Beholder, You Are Beautiful

All of the recent press around Fifty Shades of Grey has been reminding me of one (of many) of the reasons I hate both that book and the whole Twilight series. Beyond the crappy writing and lack of personality for the main character, both books share this really annoying habit where the female lead has men falling at her feet but continually thinks herself unattractive. This drives me more insane than even the “Inner Goddess” crap (I mean really, your response to something is that your Inner Goddess gets in a lotus position? If such a thing existed, my Inner Goddess would be more along the lines of Inner Sakura. She’d alternatively want to beat the crap out of people and jump their bones. Maybe eat some chocolate too).

To me, this comes across as a really horrible manifestation of the pervading habit of girls to say/think they’re not as pretty as they are.

Let’s start with a common example. Go back quite a few years in your memory, and think of the movie Mean Girls.  Sure, it seems funny when Regina traps Cady into admitting she’s pretty and acting like it’s a horrible thing. I’m not going to lie, I laughed. The problem is that behind that funny scene is a truth. Women are judged for admitting they are attractive. Even if a woman is stunningly beautiful, she is immediately condemned in our minds. Saying you’re “hot” or “beautiful” is tantamount to having a huge ego. Thus women have learned to downplay how they talk about their attractiveness.

I was playing around on imdb.com the other day, and I found this quote from one of my favorite actresses, Gemma Arterton: “In comparison to many actresses I think I’m really average – when I got the Bond film Quantum of Solace there was this big hoo-ha about me not being hot enough, I have to say I agree – I don’t think I’m in that realm.”

BEAUTIFUL, DAMNIT

Personally, I find Gemma stunningly beautiful, but even she feels the need to negatively compare herself to others. This is a common response from women – maybe I’m hot/pretty/beautiful, but not as hot/pretty/beautiful as someone else.

There are two issues at work here. One, again, is the culture that women shouldn’t admit they’re crazy attractive. If you don’t believe me yet that this is a thing, I have more examples for you. We laud the girl that “doesn’t know she’s beautiful.” Not only are there songs about it (here’s looking at you, One Direction), there are movies, cartoons, and of course books. The whole idea of a book like Fifty Shades of Grey making the main character not know her own beauty worth is that then, as readers, we can “relate.” Because of course if you’re a girl, you don’t know you’re attractive, and that makes you hotter.

WTF WORLD!?

The bigger problem is the second issue in play – insecurity. A lot of times the reason women won’t celebrate their attractiveness is because they genuinely don’t believe it. They are falling into the trap of comparing themselves to others, and they don’t like the comparison. You’ll find people are much more willing to own up to being “pretty” than “beautiful,” because pretty is less threatening. And if you have even a hint of insecurity (which you probably do), saying you’re “beautiful” opens up the floodgates for criticism. Which WILL happen. We have tons of articles about all our beautiful celebrities, and then minutes later we’ll condemn them for bad makeup, poor clothing choice, or messed up hair. So for girls that don’t think they measure up to that level, how are they supposed to feel confident enough to declare their beauty?

I’m not saying that everyone falls into the traditional “beauty” standards. I’m also not saying they should. The whole issue with beauty is that it’s a question of perception. What I find attractive is not the same thing you find attractive, EVEN WHEN COMPARING TRADITIONALLY ATTRACTIVE EXAMPLES. Get past the idea that you should be thin, blond, big-eyed, and pouty-lipped.

What I am saying, is that women shouldn’t be afraid to celebrate their own beauty. I know it’s hard. Trust me, I know. Some people suggest things like picking favorite features and feeling confident in those. That’s not a bad idea, depending on how you go about it.

When I was younger I decided I really liked my lips because everyone told me that plump lips are good, and if nothing else you can absolutely say my lips are plump. In a world where beauty is subjective, that seemed like the easiest, concrete reason to like a feature. Then one day I was hanging out with a then ex-boyfriend in the middle of the night, and we randomly got on the topic of my good features, and to my shock my lips were not one of them, because, as he told me, “they’re not that great.” That was a huge blow to the confidence scale for awhile. Since I had picked this feature because of other people’s opinion, suddenly having a bad opinion threw me for a loop. If people didn’t like the features I thought they should like, how could I be confident about any of them?

So trust me when I say I know the struggle. It feels like it should be better to underestimate your beauty than to overestimate it, and have people disagree.

But that’s stupid. You need to remember first of all that your beauty does NOT determine your worth as a person. And second, since beauty is subjective STOP trying to live up to someone’s standards. Figure out what you like about how you look, and for the love of all that’s holy, BE CONFIDENT IN IT.

I think books like Fifty Shades of Grey and Twilight teach us to not believe in our own beauty. They tell girls to base their confidence solely on what some guy (Edward, Christian) says about it, when they should be teaching them to celebrate their beauty no matter what.  I’d rather teach girls to be confident in who they are, and yes, their physical appearance is part of that. You should know you’re beautiful in some way, but you should also know it’s only one part of what makes you, you. Beauty should never be your everything, but you also shouldn’t downplay what you like about yourself just because of other people’s opinions.  

For the record, I like my lips again. Not because I think I should like them, but because they’re soft, expressive, and I love that I can wear almost any lip color and still work it. I’d like them more if they wouldn’t turn blue so easily, but that’s another matter. And maybe there are people that think “they’re not that great,” but I don’t see how that changes the things I like about them. Maybe they’ll never be as plump as Angelina Jolie’s lips, but I don’t see why I should care about her. In fact, I don’t see why I need to even give you reasons for why I like them or anything else about myself. I don’t justify liking my car, or my excessive love of Taco Bell, so why need to justify what I like about my appearance?

 

I want you to know what things about yourself you find beautiful and rock it with the same confidence and faith as anything else you truly believe. It might not feel easy, but the more you can declare to yourself “I’m hot/pretty/drop dead gorgeous/beautiful” (feel free to use your preferred descriptive) the more confident you’ll feel saying it, and that is its own kind of beauty.

It’s Just a Flesh Wound

My views on illness and injuries are practically from the middle ages. I generally do not go to the doctor. I don’t believe in personally being sick (because it’s all mental, so mind over matter, right?). I’m very much part of the “walk it off” group.

However in other ways, I verge on acting like a hypochondriac. I actually do have some general knowledge of the body and the various systems that make it up. We had this totally awesome computer “game” when I was little where you had Adam and Eve and you could pick something like lymph nodes or the cardiovascular system and they had fun little videos explaining how it worked. I took all the bio courses offered in high school, and way back in the day had quite a few toy medical kits. I also had my dad’s old travel medical bag. All of a sudden my dolls and teddy bears were suffering horrible injuries and subject to all kinds of emergency surgeries. My mother was quite distraught when she realized a real scalpel had been hidden at the bottom of Dad’s bag. Oops.

This just means that I like to use my slight knowledge to diagnose myself. Now I know lots of people do this through internet research. I like to just make random guesses and then come up with what I feel are appropriate treatments (face hurts? Probably sinuses. Must drink tea and take baths. Excessive vomiting? Have some sort of mint stuff and make sure to keep fluids down. Headache? Drink something with a bit of caffeine). Thus why I am convinced I’m dyslexic, and also suspect I have some sort of clotting/circulation issues.

Back in college this drove my roommates insane as I was obsessed with attempting to staple a wound closed. They sometimes use staples instead of stitches for bad cuts in the ER. I mean sure, they have their own medical staples, but I felt like the idea could be applied with normal staples. When I worked at The Meadows we once stapled ourselves. The boys were trying to out man each other which led to Nate stapling his arm. Being of the if-you-can-do-it-I-can-do-it mind frame we then stapled me, and one of the other guys. Not a big deal. However the staple couldn’t really fully imbed in the skin, which made me curious to see if it would work better elsewhere and with an actual injury. Which is why whenever somebody in college had any sort of cut, I ran around imploring them to let me staple it.

I can’t say I’ve ever had any serious injuries where it would matter that I tend to ignore real medical treatment. The one time I broke my wrist we did actually go to a doctor (I was only 12, and rather hysterical for a whole lot of other reasons than just breaking my wrist). Otherwise I’ve made it through things like food poisoning, chemical burns, broken toes, and some sort of ankle injury.

Now that one might have actually not been that bad at first. It’s hard to say. We were heading to the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire. I was wearing very thin shoes, and stepped on a rock which then caused me to twist my ankle in some direction I don’t think it wanted to go. I breathed for a minute while I determined whether or not it was broken. Since I was driving, and it was my left ankle, I told everyone we could continue on. I figured it was a long drive and it could rest. Once we got there I ignored it. All was fine and dandy until we were back home at the end of the day and I decided to actually take a look at the stupid thing. I pretty much had half a baseball sticking out of my ankle. It took a month of ice and wrapping it until it seemed back to normal.

The Toe, several days after breaking.

When I broke my toes, I was yet again running around on them all day and laughing here and there while announcing “I think I broke my toes, guys.” I’m not sure anyone really believed me until we were getting mani-pedis and I declined as my entire pinky toe, part of my foot, and the next toe over were the most interesting shade of purple. But really, they’re toes. I taped them up later and wore flip flops for a month.

I just don’t find most external injuries that big of a deal. Generally you know what caused them, and you can see and fix them.

Illnesses should really be a whole other story. What I hate about illness though is it’s generally not as visible. You’re just going off what someone says they feel. Are they overreacting? Are they underplaying symptoms?? Who knows. I’m probably one of the worst offenders. I don’t mention anything that I don’t think is relevant. I only go to the doctor once I feel it’s necessary, which is how I managed to be sick for over a month in college with who knows what. A virus? Mono? A blood clot? No one’s really sure.

While when I talk to others I tend to push the “walk it off” philosophy, on the other hand I am very likely to tell them to go to the doctor whenever they have weird symptoms. You never really know what’s going on in your body. There’s so much they can fix now, as long as you catch it early. It’s much better to swallow your pride and talk to the doctor over ignoring something until it’s past being treatable.

Yeah this makes me a bit of a hypocrite, but I can live with that. To be fair, while I don’t actually go in to the doctor I do talk to doctors, which is practically the same thing as a regular consultation.

As you may or may not know, November, besides being NaNoWriMo (which I’m still not doing. One of these years it’ll happen by god), is also Movember. Men across the world are growing some very fun mustaches to earn awareness for men’s health issues. Since some men have a tendency to ignore preventive health measures (they treat it like asking for directions…) I think this is brilliant. While we can’t all grow amazing mustaches, we can all do our part to support them. If you have a spare dollar or two you can head over here to my friend Marc’s page and donate. Make sure to vote for the Hulk Hogan. The Cop scares me.

Keep in mind that all the things you can be doing at any point to promote your own health. Be somewhat active. Eat healthy-ish. Wear a seat belt. Everyone has their own version of being healthy (for instance, I only eat a half pound of bacon at one sitting rather than a full pound) but it’s important to just keep these ideas in mind. You don’t want to end up dying at The Heart Attack Grill (fascinating place I found in Vegas).

What Happens When You Assume

I may have mentioned before that I’m a Steeler fan. This is causing me a lot of angst this season as they’re refusing to win games and making lots of really silly mistakes. Today’s game is no exception. Dropped balls, interceptions, turnovers that lead to touchdowns... At least James Harrison is still kicking butt and taking names. I love James Harrison.

I'm not this bad. I mean seriously...

Now I feel like I should clarify a bit on my fanship. I absolutely label myself as a Steeler fan. I watch every game with the only exceptions being when I’m busy for work purposes.  I own many different Steeler items (earrings, blankets, shirts, and of course a James Harrison jersey just to name a few). I recognize the names of the majority of the starters.

However, I don’t have every single player on the team memorized. I don’t know the nitty gritty details of the rules of football. Does this stop me from enjoying the game? Well of course not! What I find interesting though is that the common perception is that this is because I’m a girl. Apparently girls are not expected to know these things. Heck, we’re barely expected to be football fans beyond tailgating in college.

In my case, I don’t have all the intricacies of the football rules down because I decided it wasn’t necessary to know, and the refs are just going to interpret things however they want anyway (which inevitably stresses me out when they’re clearly being idiots). 

This leads me into an always interesting discussion – male and female stereotyping. Clearly, I am not going to explore every aspect of it today as the Steelers are still playing (I was going to say poorly but WOOT!! Woodley just made me eat my words) and I want to go to sleep at some point as well.   

Stereotypes will always exist. I’m sorry, they will. I think it’s just a progression of thinking. We naturally try to make assumptions about how the world functions. We use these assumptions to explain phenomena of nature as well as social situations. This can apply to a specific individual. I notice a friend has ordered cider beer multiple times in a night and I assume that’s their preference and start always ordering cider beer for them. I notice that a bunch of Texas hotels put information on church services near the front of their guest directory and I assume that Texans are more religious.

Maybe these assumptions are right, maybe they’re wrong. Now sometimes stereotypes are accurate. That’s why they exist, because there were at least a few situations and individuals that fit the bill. But they can be damaging.

I’m currently reading How Children Succeed. One of the sections I found very interesting in the book was about how identifying with a group can be both positive and negative. A positive is because it gives you a shared identity, which can help you connect with the other group members. A negative is that you then feel constrained by the group stereotypes.

The book described studies comparing the test score results for girls on math exams. When the girls first received positive messaging that intelligence is flexible and didn’t feel constrained by that good ol’ belief that men are naturally better at math, they scored better than the control group of girls. So stereotypes can be self-perpetuating. Because girls are supposed to be worse at math, they expect to do poorly and don’t try to their full potential, thus giving them worse scores.

Apparently this is what it looks like when flat.

My friend Jenn was just telling me the other week how excited she was when she took her car into the shop and they talked to her like a real person. She had issues in the past where they talked down to her assuming she didn’t know anything about cars. Now I’ve encountered this as well, but it’s never bugged me because I legitimately don’t know anything about cars. I have plenty of girl friends that LOVE cars. They can talk mechanics all day long. Me? Well, let’s just say that I’m the girl that didn’t realize her tire was flat back in high school. I called my parents saying it looked funny, and when they asked if it was flat I said “no, it’s just the bottom part.”

In one of my friend Erin’s posts we got on a side discussion about movies based off video games and how she doesn’t like that all the female characters stroll around with very little clothing. This is a valid point. If I was fighting zombies I’d be wearing tons of layers to help protect myself from getting infected. I think the issue is that when they make these games they assume mostly males will be playing them. Despite the evidence to the contrary, the stereotype is that gamers are male.

Just the other day I was talking to someone who I found out works for Blizzard. I immediately told them how mad their company makes me. They responded that this better not be another case of an angry girlfriend that lost their bf to WoW.

While this kind of made me giggle, it’s still the stereotype at work. If I had been a guy, they never would have made this assumption. Since I’m a girl, they assumed I wasn’t involved with Blizzard directly but just knew it through a guy. I actually played WoW for a while, and in fact I was referring to Blizzard doing ridiculous things to my account like deleting game subscriptions.

Where does this leave us? Well basically the same place we started. I can’t fix all the wrongs of the world with this little post. When I encounter new people I’m still going to be going against the same stereotypes.

But I can make more of an effort to not make my own assumptions about people. As my father always told me over and over growing up, what happens when you assume? You make an ass out of u and me (still true).

And if nothing else, we can all remember that these stereotypes DO NOT DEFINE US.

Neek Pride Day

Today is Nerd or Geek Pride Day, which I have also converted into Neek Pride Day. Happy Pride Day to all my dear nerds, geeks, and neeks!

To celebrate, I’m going to visit my brother, a fellow neek if there ever was one. It’s always interesting when I visit my brother. Sometimes we stay in and do totally awesome neek things like have an anime marathon & drinking game, or play magic cards. Sometimes we go out and party, or go be active and play something like ultimate Frisbee (which I fail at). I’m not sure what we’re doing this time. He promised we’d go play laser tag though, so I’m pretty psyched about that.

On the other hand, I am not at all excited about my layover in Chicago. It seems like my flights ALWAYS go through Chicago. I’m getting sick of their food options. And really, how do they not have a Starbucks in the airport?? Don’t get me wrong I normally appreciate local coffee places, but right now I am desperately craving a mocha cookie crumble frappuccino. How dare you deny me, Chicago!! I don’t want to get one after finally landing… that’ll be way too late in the afternoon. I don’t process caffeine the same way I used to. Curse you, Chicago Midway!

That was a rather large digression. I apologize, those cookie crumble frapps are just sooooo good.

Today I actually want to talk more about pride. I’m very happy there is a holiday devoted to nerd/geek/neek pride. Interestingly enough, I used to think I wasn’t the type of person that had a lot of pride.

I’m not sure why really. I certainly wasn’t the opposite either; it’s not like I was ashamed of myself or anything. Pride just wasn’t a word I really connected with myself.

When I was in college, I took a class where we converted a medieval play into a more modern version. Everyone in the class had different jobs to get it set up, and then most of us also acted in the play. I was part of the crew that actually wrote it. Our medieval play was the Castle of Perseverance, which we turned into Fast Times at Morality High. It was pretty awesome, if I do say so myself.

Honestly no idea what I'm doing in this shot.

The Virtues became cheerleaders at the school. The Vices became a gang. I was cast as a Vice, Pride. My friends and I thought it was a bit odd, because again, I don’t identify myself as particularly prideful, but I figured I didn’t really match any of the other roles either. Plus I had a lot of fun with it. We were doing it 80s style, so I threw my hair into crazy curls and got some jellies. I went looking for pictures of us Vices in our full 80s glory, and stumbled upon the website we created for the play. Too bad we don’t have the full video up! You’d be in for a treat.

It really wasn’t until this week that I started to rethink my stance on what it means to have pride. I was reading Divergent (which is super awesome and gets 2 thumbs up from me) and the main character was talking about how she had too much pride. She identified it as the weakness for a group, as their pride kept them acting tough and doing crazy, dangerous things just so they wouldn’t lose face.

Seriously, it was like a light bulb moment. Unbeknownst to myself, I have always been INSANELY prideful. It just blends in so well with some of my other more obvious traits (stubbornness, defiance), that I never realized it was part of the problem.

Take for instance, one of my mother’s favorite examples of an early childhood moment that confirmed I would be a handful. My mother had surgery on her foot, so my grandmother was staying with us for a few weeks to help out. Now I already had my mother trained on how to dress me for kindergarten, but apparently my grandmother missed the memo because she tried to make me wear pants. So what if it was the winter?? I wore fluffy dresses. Everyone wore fluffy dresses. I absolutely refused to put on the pants, and would not go to school in anything except one of my dresses.

Don’t worry, I won the argument. I always thought this situation was just because I wanted to wear a dress, but in reconsidering, the whole reason I wore fluffy dresses (besides liking them) was because I was proud. It was a status symbol in our class. Sure, no one would really care if I went one day without a dress, but I had faaaaaaaaaar too much pride to hold myself to the lower standards of people who dressed according to the weather. I was one of the few girls that sat at the top of the jungle gym damnit, and by God I would not lose face be being relegated to the lower half with the pants wearers!

And this was when I was in kindergarten. Imagine how much worse that pride has been getting without me realizing it.

But pride is not a negative thing. Sometimes it might lead to some extreme reactions, but in general I think it’s important to have pride in yourself.

Now that I think about it, there are several areas where I’ve always had a lot of pride. I’m a proud Steelers fan. I’m proud of my Scottish heritage. And we all know how proud I am of my epic reading abilities.

So let’s all celebrate the fact that what were formerly belittling traits are now cause for pride. Celebrate your neekness! And while you’re at it, celebrate and be proud of all the other things that make you, well, YOU!

I’ll finish with good news as well! I just realized I’m flying through DALLAS on my way there, not Chicago. That’s on the way back. Now as long as Dallas airport has a Starbucks I will be one happy neek!