“If you don’t like it you don’t have to say a thing about it… if you don’t like it you don’t have to say a thing about it… “
Okay, I’ll cut it out.
I was having a conversation with a female co-worker today about… Beyonce. I know, I know. This is not about lip syncing or Super Dome power outage conspiracy theories or even the quality of her Super Bowl performance. We discussed her looks. Yep. It always comes back to that, doesn’t it?
She looked gorgeous, but did she have to show that much skin? Prince did not do that. The Who stayed covered up for their half-time performance.
Here is the deal: at the end of the day, Beyonce showed her buff body because that is the way it is. It is, isn’t it? Madonna has been doing it since the 80’s. All the Mickey Mouse Club girls do it as soon as they are old enough to drive. It is what we have become.
To me, what we are showing is less important than what we are saying- no matter how “covered up” women are. The worst thing is, we women are the worst offenders. We are the judge and jury of too fat, too thin, too tight, too old looking, too young looking, too wrinkled, too much make-up, not enough makeup.
“Why is she wearing that?”
“Wow, she’s getting big.”
“Wow, she’s too thin—she looks anorexic.”
Then, we are appalled about how there is too much emphasis on looks or weight. Who is emphasizing it in the first place? We are! It is too easy to blame this on men.
This is not about men telling us we are too fat or thin. God knows, this is not about men telling us our shoes do not go well enough with our purse- because most men do not notice that in the first place.
In my nearly 23 years in television, I can assure you that letters, emails and phone calls have come from- with very few exceptions- other women. They are the ones who feel they need to berate me for my hair, makeup, clothes, weight, where did my boobs come from- are they real? (yes, they are, they are 99% fat- hello- they are real- I woke up and there they were, along with other pockets of fluff that I accumulated along the way.)
But I digress. What does it matter where my boobs came from, whether I have a little belly or a bad hair day? Why do we women do this? We do it to ourselves. We do it to each other.
WE are the ones looking at magazines, movies, etc and manufacturing an ideal for ourselves- and everyone else. We are the ones wanting validation, then offering condemnation.
“Don’t be too pretty- but don’t look bad. “
My favorite victim of this whole “beauty police” mentality is Jessica Simpson. First she is trying to be too hot and sexy with that whole Daisy Duke thing and just being on too many magazines and stuff. Skinny bitch. Blah, blah, blah.
As soon as she puts on a little post-divorce and subsequent other breakup weight she is suddenly the media’s favorite fat girl. Why do we even focus on this in the first place?
Men, the media, Beyonce (who looks great, by the way), none of them tell me what is beautiful. None of them tell me how I think I should look. I come up with this stuff in my own little head.
If I want it to stop, I can stop it. If I want society’s message about body image to change, I can start by changing myself. By that, I mean, I can start by building other women up, instead of going out of my way to find fault. This includes even the successful, rich, talented mega stars who “ask for it” just by being famous. We women have to stick together.
I guess the real starting point is with me- the woman in the mirror. There is nothing wrong with wanting to look your best and be the best you that you can be. Build yourself up sky high. While you are at it, offer your sisters some bricks. Don’t throw them at her, help her stack them.