I took my kids to the waterpark for four hours yesterday after they finished their schoolwork. I got to sit under an umbrella with a paperback and people-watch while they checked in with me after going down each water slide. I always love to watch people in pubic, but yesterday I was paying particular attention. One of the reasons for that is because I am having quite a bit of trouble fitting my boobs into the majority of my swimsuit tops this year. Since January I have actually been eating well, and not starving myself on a regular basis, and my boobs have responded by living up to their genetic dictate size “D”. I am ultimately at peace with this because along with the boobs I have a lot more muscle, and I like the way that I look. Change is always challenging to accustom ourselves to however, especially when we have to be diligent to avoid wardrobe mishaps.
I swear that if we took aliens and gave them a magazine…almost any kind of magazine, and showed them the pictures of the people inside, and then took them to the waterpark where I was yesterday, and let them watch the crowds, they would swear that we are a different species. Human beings simply do not look like that, and it is harmful to us and it is especially harmful to our children. I am fighting against those plasticized human look-alikes in my own right, but I would love for more people to start paying attention to how vast the gap is between what the media is telling people they should look like, and how the majority of human beings actually look. We are not all flat, and smooth, and airbrushed in real life. When people walk most everything jiggles…even on the very young and the very athletic. It was boggling my mind when I started paying attention to woman after woman who was actually rather physically fit, or even slim, but realizing that there was no way in hell that anyone would put them on a magazine cover. Natural human bodies just do not look presentable in the eyes of the media.
What breaks my heart is that so many of us spend a great portion of our lives trying to sculpt ourselves into those illusions of human beings on those magazine covers. We exhaust ourselves, starve ourselves, and spend thousands of dollars on drugs, supplements, and creams. We even put ourselves through expensive invasive surgeries just to look the way that those make believe people do. It is fucking madness. We completely disregard our own health in the entire equation, because most of the people that are glorified in the media for their bodies are not even healthy people. The majority of them will also admit that they do not even look like that before the tech gets his hand on the airbrush tools and takes them to their photos. Then we come down on ourselves for not looking the way that the pictures do. We judge our own selves more harshly than anyone else, and we damage our own mental health. When in the hell did we forget that it is who we are and how we feel that truly matters, not what we look like? Why in the name of god do we allow our little girls look at photographs of runway models and say that they want to be that pretty when they grow up. Pretty!?!? No honey, miserable, and hungry, and void of self confidence is what most of those poor women are. When are we going to demand Disney princesses that don’t have toilet paper rolls for waistlines? When are we going to decide that children are worth that? When are we going to acknowledge that the emperor should put on some fucking clothes and admit that Arnold Schwarzenegger looked really gross at the peak of his body-building career? Seriously, I cannot even look at those pictures without flinching in pain.
The women that I say that I noticed yesterday who were healthy and fit were absolutely beautiful. They had lots of parts that jiggled. They had stretch marks and cellulite, and they had beautiful bellies. Women are genetically meant to have them; we all live real lives. Even very slim women still carry a natural belly, I could not find a single woman under the age of thirteen yesterday who did not. The most beautiful women in the crowd were the ones who carried theirs proudly and with confidence. They are the parts of our bodies that are designed to carry and nurture new life, and yet we strive to flatten and erase them to better resemble those airbrushed inhuman images. The most beautiful belly that I have ever seen bears the scars that were left by the surgery that saved my dear friend from the man who tried to beat her to death. Mine bears the scar left from the delivery of my twins, and it is my powerful history. Where has our perspective gone? I believe that we have a hell of a problem to address.