The Beauty Double-Bind: Part 2

Image Courtesy of eHow.com
When Exactly Did We Start to Hate Our Bodies…?
I can precisely pin-point the moment when I started to hate my body. I was twelve years old and my dad was a professor at UNLV, Las Vegas, Nevada. I hadn’t thought much about my appearance until the summer I would turn 13. The first three things to grow on my body were my nose, my arms, and my legs, and they all grew long. I looked like a gangly scarecrow.
But, I wasn’t the one to notice that or point it out. I was just a tom-boy who spent her days riding bikes, swimming in various neighborhood pools, climbing trees or rock walls, running races, playing tag, or skateboarding. I kept my hair short like a boy and I was very involved in the physical world. I had natural confidence because of the things my body did for me. It was strong, it had tons of energy, it took me all of the places I wanted to go, and it allowed me to swim or ride or hike for hours on end. I was having fun in the world just being me.
Then one day, I was crossing the street to go to my girlfriend’s house, and her older brother yelled out to me. “Hey, Big Nose!” he said. I looked up. He continued, “That’s right, Sarah, you have a Big Nose and it’s really ugly. You are the ugliest girl I have ever seen”.

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I was stunned. Those words knocked the air out of my lungs. I felt instantly self-conscious and fell silent.
I hadn’t quite ever thought about it because I wasn’t interested in my appearance. I was having so much fun with just living and just ‘being’ that I hadn’t thought about how I looked and, up until that point, I didn’t really care, either.
I didn’t answer the boy back. I did not stand up for myself. I was terribly ashamed of myself, and of my nose, and I went home.
I told my parents that Danny had said I had a big nose and that I was the ugliest girl he had ever seen. They told me that was nonsense and that my nose had CHARACTER. They told me that Danny didn’t know what a nose with character looked like and Danny didn’t know a beautiful girl when he saw one. My parents believed what they were saying. They were always and continue to be my greatest champions.
But that didn’t matter. What my parents told me and thought of me didn’t matter, because MY ENTIRE WORLD HAD CHANGED. I was now “The Ugly Girl”.

Not only was I “The Ugly Girl”, I was also turning thirteen, the age when a girl first becomes a teenager. Thirteen is the age when you usually start to notice boys, and they start to notice you. Thirteen is when you and your friend’s bodies start blossoming and changing.
Thirteen is a critical year for you. It’s usually the year when you first deeply desire to be beautiful. And when you’re not beautiful, the internal torture you suffer can practically destroy your ENTIRE SENSE OF SELF.
I hoped Danny would go away and that would be the last time I would hear from him. But, that was just empty hope on my part. Danny had already told all of the neighborhood boys, who were usually my friends, about his harsh physical assessment of me.
When I came outside the next day, there was a group of my male friends standing around. One of them immediately started in, “Hey, Big Nose- Yeah, You, Big Nose!” The other boy said, “She has a big mouth too- big mouths are so ugly!!” They laughed. I was no longer just ‘one of the boys’, as I had been until that moment. I was now a girl, and an ugly girl at that.
And that day marked the beginning of the end. That was the end of me being included in the neighborhood clique of boys. That was the end of me being a confident tom-boy. That day marked the beginning of the end of self-esteem, self-worth, and the beginning of the end of my natural self-confidence. That day marked how the rest of my years on this earth were to play out. It was the day I became aware of how I looked to other people, and the day that I made the decision to allow other people to shame me because of their assessments and judgments about my appearance.
Now, I do not mean for this story to be a sob-story, because it’s not. And, after graduating high school, and going to college, I began to build my self-esteem up again, and I also ended up growing into my appearance. But, I still allow others to deeply influence me, especially when it comes to my appearance. Even to this day, in my mind, my appearance can never be good enough. And I struggle with this daily. I can always find something to nit-pick about. But, things are getting better.
And, I have learned that I am far from alone. Every woman I know struggles with her appearance. Many women report that they live internally tortured lives– like there’s a broken-record commentary playing over in their minds constantly chastising them over their thighs, or their butts, their breasts, their sagging jaw-line.
The author Thomas Hardy once quipped, “A woman would rather visit her own grave, than the place where she has once been young and beautiful, after she is aged and ugly.” Boy, his thoughts just deliver some real rays of sunshine to us women. Shame on you, Thomas.
And my question is, why is that? Unfortunately, there is some ugly truth to what Thomas Hardy says. Why is it that beauty controls us so much?
Well, I do have a theory, and this is only my opinion, for whatever it’s worth. I believe that one of the deepest desires of humankind is to feel loved, to feel part of a group, to feel deeply connected to others, and to feel validated.
Beauty has become the popular tool in society to validate or to INVALIDATE women. And sometimes I feel like if I am NOT beautiful, I am not part of the group, and therefore I am not lovable. And, if I am not lovable, then I am worthless, and I am alone. And then, a great fear takes over and I stand face to face with the abyss.
The thought of NOT being beautiful is somehow equated with this dark, never-ending abyss in my mind. I will say quite frankly that this is not logical thinking and is not based in reality. But, logical thinking or not, it is a thought that can dominate my choices and influence me to some extent, especially when I am caught off-guard by it.
And when I talk to other women, I find that the fear of not being beautiful also dominates their choices. Sometimes they choose not to go to social events, or go to the gym, or even date, if they are single. Because they have hang-ups about themselves that none of the rest of us even see. Yet, they are haunted by these beauty hang-ups, and sometimes even immobilized by them. To us, these women look gorgeous, but to them, in their minds, they believe the world only sees their (perceived) flaws.

And sometimes, it’s even worse for women who are mothers. Many of us hold this thought that we have to go on a crash diet soon after giving birth, or we have to have mommy make-overs to feel good about ourselves again. Some of my friends don’t breastfeed because other women have told them they’ll ruin the appearance of their bodies if they breastfeed. Don’t get me wrong, I am all about women choosing to breastfeed to not. They need to do what’s best for them. But, I know the wonderful bonding experience I got from having nursed my children, and I would not give that experience up for the world. How I would look afterwards did not enter my mind when making that decision.
There’s an expectation that I hear all the time from fellow mothers in my peer group. There is this unconscious, even conscious expectation, that after she has a child, she will need to magically fit back into her pre-mommy wardrobe, and carry off the same high heels and business suit, and hair-do and make-up that takes hours out of her morning routine. And, of course, she’ll still be responsible for all of her prior duties around the house, too. The baby on the way will just ‘blend into the background’, after all. And soon, everything will be back to normal, and her child will be a mere accessory she carries on her hip.

Courtesy of Sydney Morning Herald
For most of us mothers, that couldn’t be FARTHER from the truth. First off, it takes some of us years to fit back into those clothes, and some of us never do. The fact of the matter is, many women’s bodies change after child-birth, yet we still hold onto an illusion and an EXPECTATION that we should look as we did prior to having children. These unrealistic beauty expectations just keep getting heaped upon us, and when we don’t meet the expectations, some of us feel like giant failures.
Unfortunately, we ourselves are the culprits for heaping expectation upon expectation.
I remember looking in the mirror about a week after giving birth to my second son. I could not stand the sight of myself. I had never seen my body look so ‘deformed’. Deformed was the only word that came to mind. I immediately told myself, “Come on, Sarah, you just went through a tough pregnancy and tougher labor. Your son was in the ICU for three days. You can cut yourself some slack”.
Yet, the truth of the matter is, that didn’t change the way I felt about myself. The emotions I felt came in like a flood. I saw my body and just cried. I felt so ugly at that moment and even felt ashamed to be around my husband. This was extremely unhealthy thinking on my part. But, the truth of the matter is, I felt this incredibly deep, visceral fear that my husband wouldn’t love me anymore simply because of the way I looked. Sometimes, I felt so ashamed of myself during the weeks and months it took for the weight to start coming off.
Sometimes, I felt like half a person. And the reason I felt like half a person was because there’s always this deep-seated fear that IF I am not pretty enough, I will not be loved. And if I am not loved, I will be alone.
Now, to my husband’s credit, he was so loving to me during this time. His eyes just lit up every time he saw me cuddling the baby, which was often. He took tons of pictures against my protestations, and he insisted I looked great. Now, looking back at those pictures, I can say I looked good and the love I have for my child really shined through my face. I didn’t look anything like the image I had of myself in my own head, and that love that was lighting up my face gave me a certain glow that made me beautiful.
So, how do we, as women, start getting out of this beauty double-bind once and for all? How can we be at peace with our appearance?
In my next post, I am going to share some of my own personal affirmations that have been helpful to me. I am also going to present a different perspective on what beauty actually is and how we can feel more beautiful ourselves.
Stay tuned for Part Three and keep those comments coming!!
Blessings,
Sarah
God, I can just recall my awkward teenage years. Not the best years of my life, but at least I survived.
What a thought provoking post.
I know that I have felt like this for a bit too. I have two younger sisters and 4 younger brothers and well as the oldest I did not get married until 3 others had gotten married. I was also in my mid 30’s when I married.
Everyone tended to the younger ones as I was growing up.
I am also tall (5’9″). I love being tall. I was just told I was gangly.
Now I am actually a few inches taller than my husband but I am fine with it and he is too.
I must now wear a compression stocking to help me walk. (At age 36 I developed DVT). I was very self conscious about wearing shorts or short skirts the first year I had this on. Now I figure too bad. I know that little kids (my nieces and mephews included) have asked what is wrong with my leg. I just say there it is a little sick and this helps me.
I think as long as the majority of our social media continues to portray the image of the”perfect” woman, pregnant or not, on the covers of magazines, in television and movies, women will struggle with feeling inferior. Their confidence will be rocked every time they walk up to a grocery checkstand and see those “perfect” faces and bodies staring back at them. It is inescapable!
I know everyone says it and no one truly believes it, but it is all about confidence. I gained 45 lbs while I was pregnant and on a 5’3″ frame that is a lot of weight to carry. Luckily, I had extra disposable income at the time that allowed me to dress my best which made me feel confident. And that confidence showed! I had maternity pictures taken and when one of my husband’s friends saw a particular photo (only chest up) he actually mistook me for one of the Bond girls (like James Bond). He thought my husband had a poster-girl on his phone and was deadly serious. The only thing I can attribute that to is the confidence I portrayed because I thought I looked great, and of course a great haircut doesn’t hurt.
I’m so glad you’re tackling this tough subject, Sarah. Yes, I agree that the images we see in the media are a huge barrier to seeing ourselves accurately. It’s so important to understand that 99% of those images are significantly photoshopped. It’s better to think of them as artistic representations rather than realistic ones!
It’s also important to remember that in real life, we find beauty in such diverse places, while the entertainment industry tends to shove one kind of beauty down our throats. I was just blogging on the difference between Gabourey Sidibe’s fabulous Ebony cover and this month’s bland, bland Vanity Fair cover, which supposedly represents the “New Hollywood.” We know that actual beauty comes in so many shapes, sizes, and ages, and we need to keep validating that!
Wow, that post really moved me. I wonder if I have a daughter someday what can be done to shield her from this. I worry that the answer is “Not much” even with very loving parents like the author’s.
What a great story especially since the recent tabolid story over Kourtney Karadashian has brought the attention of women being force-fed this idea that they have to return to their “prepregnancy” body immediately after giving birth. As a mom of two, I can attest that returning to one’s “pre pregnancy” body after giving birth will never happen. I don’t hate my post pregnancy baby. I still stare at my girls in awe, they’re 5 and 3, because I still can’t believe that they came out of me. What a miracle.
.-= BrooklynShoeBabe´s last blog ..Wrapping Up 2009: The Year that Was =-.
Two comments have really stuck with me and had negative impacts on my life.
1) A guy in h.s. who was dating my BFF said if a girls stomach sticks out further than her breasts, she’s fat. Well, I was pretty flat chested and out of shape. I knew then I was “fat”
2) My dad told me in my LATE 20s that I looked like Shania Twain without the boobs. FROM MY DAD!!! What dad says that to their kid? He is so oblivious. That was over 10 yrs ago and I can still hear him saying that.
I have had a pretty negative self image since Middle School and even though I “know” I’m not heavy or fat, I still see myself as the 150+ pound, pimply, no-style teenage girl. I’m 40 yrs old for goodness sake! People are constantly…I mean constantly telling me how skinny I am, which makes me CONSTANTLY self assess myself.
“Oh, if they only saw under my clothes they’d see the fat rolls.” “Is my shirt sitting in such a way that my breasts look bigger than they are (barely A)” “Is my scale wrong because I feel like 140 not 120.” “Do they need to go to an optomotrist”?
I absolutely hate that I feel this way about myself and I tried to make sure that my birls never felt that way. In fact, I did as much to promote natural beauty as I could. hahaha It’s still strange to see my daughter, who’s 18, wearing mascara or some such stuff.
I think I will forever compare myself to the “unnatural” beauty that we Americans set as the standard. I don’t ever think of how God created me before I think of how the world sees me. I wish I did!! I would then have God confidence flowing through me. Sigh…
.-= Mimi´s last blog ..Mom Link Round Up: February 12th Edition =-.
Ladies,
Thanks for leaving all of the feedback. I appreciate reading each and every one of your comments.
I can relate to what Brooklyn Shoe Babe says because my body didn’t return even though I did lose the weight. But, it’s really okay, and in fact it’s a miracle because I have the two most wonderful things that ever happened to me– my two sons. At the risk of sounding sappy, they amaze me every single day.
Mimi, I had a hard time in high school as well. I skipped over that part because even attempting to write about high school would take pages in and of itself. Maybe one day I will write a piece about it. But, my negative self image was reinforced in high school, and rammed down my throat too, for that matter. With my pale skin and reddish-brown hair, I was not the beauty standard of the time. I think beauty standards are a little more varied for girls today. I look at the Twilight series and see that the character Bella Swan has coloring and hair a lot like mine and that Kristen Stewart is not the ‘typical’ Hollywood starlet.
My deepest hope is that these posts aserve to inspire. I know that the reason I keep on writin’.
Blessings,
Sarah