We live in a society where beauty is demanded of women. There’s a beauty industry making billions of dollars by convincing women that they’re all ugly and unacceptable unless they buy this or that magical beauty product. A lot of us are sick of it, sick of hating ourselves, but we don’t know what to do about it.
The only kind of beauty that matters
I hate to my fucking core that “beauty” in a woman has nothing to do with a look of intelligence, happiness or anything complex, human and deeper than bone structure and the colours and size of your respective bits, not to mention having no sign of encroaching death by way of a wrinkle or flesh giving in to gravity.
Commenter Lizor, on this epic thread at Nine Deuce’s blog
Yet more proof that beauty is an oppressive concept when applied to human beings. One of these days I’m going to have to write a blog post of my own on this subject.
And that poor petunia looked much nicer at the garden shop. It had to survive being stuck in a bag and walked 5 km home. I’m surprised the bloom even survived. I’ve bought some flowers for my window boxes and today I’m going to plant them.
“Don’t hate me ’cause I’m beautiful,” smirks Kelly LeBrock in this shampoo commercial from the 1980s.
“I won’t, ’cause you’re not!” retorted my child self to the screen.
.
I thought she was weird looking, with strange slitty nostrils, so it made me question her apparently delusional assumption that all the other females on the planet are jealous of her. I wasn’t the only one, either – “Don’t hate me ’cause I’m beautiful” has become a classic bit of pop-culture sarcasm.
Since then I’ve learned more about what it means to be female in this world, and I’m here to share it with you.
Exiled Stardust 