Monday Musings: What Beauty Means To Me Now
Every time I start thinking about what beauty means to me now that I’m 37 and well into aging, I get overwhelmed by the task. I don’t feel like I’m old, still, but I acknowledge that my face and body have been changing over the years. I am surrounded by people who look considerably younger than their age because of botox and endless procedures, and they talk about it casually like what they’re having for dinner. That’s their prerogative and I’m genuinely happy that they’re achieving their goals. The side effect, however, is I am now desensitized to body modification culture. It’s more common than ever with so many clinics at different price points popping up everywhere. And, it is seeping into the decisions I will make about my body in the future, if I allow it.
I was just watching a video of Naomi Campbell slipping into a gorgeous black Dolce & Gabbana ballgown with a golden cage corset on top. She is 55 years old, yet if we’re just basing on the video, she easily looks like she’s 35.
“It’s all about lighting. Lighting is extremely important,” she declares empathically. And it struck me quite suddenly about how much of beauty these days is performance. Every makeup artist knows that there’s makeup for the lights, and makeup for real life. Every person who has done face and body modification knows that there’s the face and body they were born with, and the face and body that they sculpted to near perfection. How much of what we do is for ourselves, and how much is for an audience?
No, you don’t need to be some social media starlet to answer this question. It is a fact universally acknowledged that beauty comes with great and crushing expectations. I mean this in two contexts: the first is that beauty is an endless hamster wheel that we get on chasing impossible perfection. Women can be too thin, too fat. Too fair, too dark. Too angled, too soft. Infinite variations exist and none of them are us. The second context is that when we “achieve” an acceptable level of beauty, whether through natural or supernatural means, we demand more from ourselves and from the world around us. Pretty privilege is real and we all want it. Anyone who says they don’t is not being truthful.
So what does beauty mean to me now? The older I get, the more I’m trying to be aware of where the line is between what I want for myself and what I assume the world wants from me. I have never been conventionally beautiful but I consider myself beautiful; is that enough? Right now, I think it is. But I suspect that soon age will throw a wrench into the delicate machinery that is my self-confidence.
I’m in a rambly mood today. Thank you for your patience.
