I’m Beautiful Like Me.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the title of my blog, what it means to me and where it comes from.

“I’m not beautiful like you, I’m beautiful like me” comes from the song Beautiful by Joydrop. It’s important to me for a number of reasons. Firstly, it tackles my own issues with self-image. Next, it is a voice of dissent in a culture that places value on the impossible: physical perfection. Finally, I hope that those words touches others and helps them recognize their own beauty.

As mama to both a girl and a boy, exploring my attitudes about appearance is something that I’m greatly concerned with. With Joy, I’m worried about the impact that television, movies, advertisements and magazines will have on her own self-image. With Buddha, I want him to grow up sensitive to and understanding of the impact that these mediums have (especially on women). I want to discuss with both of my children why beauty is so adamantly emphasized - and therefore pursued - in this culture.

When I was a little girl, I didn’t have many self-image issues. I was active, I ate a well-balanced diet. When I became a preteen and entered middle school, I became more aware of my own appearance and noticed a subtle form of competition that took place amongst my peers. It was a competition that I reluctantly joined. It continued well into high school and even beyond, but it’s impact on me was most negative in those precarious 7 years. It’s a time when children start to develop their own identity within the greater world (as opposed to within the confines of family). I felt awkward and out-of-style. I struggled to fit in. I learned to hate my uncooperative hair. I studied my flaws with a critical eye in the mirror. I’ve always struggled with my weight, too.

I’m not entirely sure when it happened, but things changed. I found that I had confidence. I saw a pretty girl in the mirror - not perfect - but certainly not ugly and definitely worthy of love and respect. Instead of seeing a broad forehead and a too-soft-not-flat belly, I saw long, slender legs and full, pouty lips. I somehow learned to focus on my qualities that I thought of as my physical strengths. It was serendipitous. Discovering a healthy self-image I wasn’t exactly searching for led to suddenly being asked out a lot, too. Turns out that men (and a few women) are really into a self-confident girl. I daresay it quickly became my best quality, outshining even my legs.

Today, I’m a good 30 lbs. (give or take) heavier than I was then. I gained close to 50 lbs. in my pregnancy with Joy and only lost 8-10 lbs. after she was born. It took me many years to find the motivation to do something about it. I lost 30 more lbs. just a few years before getting pregnant with Buddha. I gained less weight with him and lost more directly after his birth, but I’m still heavier than I’d like to be. This has less to do with the way I look than the way I feel (see this post for more info).

At the tender age of 9, Joy is already thinking about her appearance. She has commented to me a number of times that she thinks of herself as fat or that she needs to lose weight. This saddens me and it also angers me. First of all, she is perfect in my eyes! The poor darling inherited her mama’s body and her daddy’s sweet tooth - a toxic combination in this day and age. But she does eat very healthy most days and is very active. I fear that others have corrupted her self-image because of their own exposure to unhealthily thin celebrities. I know too many women who hate their freckles (what is up with that?!) so I’ve made it a point to drill into her head that she is a beautiful girl and that her freckles are among her best features. Fortunately, she loves her freckles.

I happened to catch an episode of Oprah wherein a panel of guest experts discussed the book The Secret. One woman from the audience talked about hating her figure, despite the numerous other ways her life was successful. One of the panelists responded to this woman, stating something to the effect of “Hey, your arms work, your legs work. Learn to love that they can do the things that you need them to do!” I thought that was pretty damn profound!

A few years ago, there was a great (albeit short-lived) TV show called Boomtown. One of the characters on the show, a cop named Fearless, carried a list of Things to Do Before He Died and inspired me to start my own. Topping my list is something I’ve yet to do: own a pair of tailor-made pants. I’ve developed and nurtured a loathing for clothing manufacturers, particularly those in the business of making pants and jeans. Every woman I discuss this matter with agrees that shopping for jeans is a total pain in the ass. Personally, I find that pants that fit my waist are typically way too baggy in the butt, crotch and thighs. While it may be true that many women have a certain body type, I’d argue that it’s absurd and preposterous to expect women to tailor their bodies to fit in clothing items that are mass-produced. Companies ought to tailor their apparel to fit us, not expect us to tailor our bodies to fit their clothing. It’s a major contribution in the movement of our culture that - whatever it’s intentions - is making women hate themselves.

One of my guilty pleasures is America’s Next Top Model. I can’t help but feel drawn to the show. Perhaps it is my own experience in the industry. When I was young, I danced ballet. However, I stopped when we moved to the States, because I just couldn’t get into the groove of the new teacher. Instead, my mom got me involved in beauty pageants and eventually, Barbizon Modeling School (I don’t recommend them). It was an interesting experience and though nothing much ever came of it for me, I am pleased to report that it didn’t have the negative impact on my self-image that it very well could have had. In any case, this year’s Cycle 10 had me cheering for Whitney Thompson. She’s considered “full-figured” at size 10. And believe it or not, she won! I’m hopeful that this is a step in the right direction that our culture (and other cultures, particularly those that admire ours) will lay off emphasizing stick-skinny figures as being more beautiful and therefore more valuable.

Finally, if you haven’t yet heard of Dove’s Beauty Campaign, I strongly recommend checking out their site, Campaign for Real Beauty, just after you watch the video below.

After flinching from the many, various noises from the fireworks last night, I decided it would be far more exciting to actually go outside and watch. One can better prepare herself for the bang when one sees the fuses being lit! So, I scooped up my Buddha and went outside to watch. He was terrified, the poor thing. He eyed the lights suspiciously and jumped with every pow, and then the pitiful babe would make this face of sheer terror. I had to convince T to come out and take some photos of us, ’cause she’s not terribly fond of fireworks, either. Later, I tried to leave him inside with T for a bit so I could get a break from holding him, but he wanted to go back out. Later, P brought her girls since they were rained out at her sister’s house. I picked on her a bit about George Clinton, but she was a good sport. Her girls would clap after every big mortar exploded and squeal with delight. It inspired the boy - he clapped and smiled with them, but was still very much afraid. Some pictures from the porch, before P and her girls came. He was clinging to me for dear life:

After the last sparkle fizzled, P and her girls came inside for a bit. The boy was so tired, we just skipped the bath altogether. I was tired, too, so I queued a movie in the DVD player and intended to watch Vantage Point while dozing off to sleep. That didn’t work. It’s so full of action and suspense that I was quickly engaged in the plot. The television distracted Buddha from falling asleep, too. I didn’t care, dammit. It had Edgar Ramirez in it! He’s so beautiful:

It was the best movie I’ve seen in a very long time. It had all the elements a good movie needs: action, drama, suspense, the whole whodunnit bit, a great cast and a decent ending.

Today’s been good, too. My mouse took a shit. Sweet Husband went to Best Buy to get me a new one. It’s got a tablet pad and pen, too, so I can practice drawing for iSketch! Yes, it’s lame but it pleases me. It also came with Photoshop Elements and Corel Paint and some other programs. I’ve played around in those in demos, so I know what great scores those are.

Husband has a light night at work, so he should be home pretty early. That thrills me, because the boy is really giving me a hard way to go about sleep again tonight. I sometimes wonder if he’ll be sleeping on his own by the time school starts. He’s just so different from Joy when it comes to nighttime and sleeping. I tell myself that he will be easy in ways that she’s been hard when I need a pep talk. A non-sleeping babe is about the worst thing I can think of, besides a sick, non-sleeping babe.

That said, I’m off to rock him in my arms while catching up on The First 48.

Curtesy of my new toy, my signature!