"before I know it, I’m gonna wake up and be 23 and my life’s gonna be behind me."
"you know that I’m 25, right?"
If you are female, expressing hatred for your own body is not just acceptable, it’s practically de rigeur. Failure to indulge in the requisite amount of self-flagellation – my thighs! my skin! my face! – isn’t just negligent, it’s unfeminine. Self-hatred is fundamental to how femininity is constructed, more fundamental than any of the more obvious external symbols (dress, make-up, shoes). What matters is not that you are beautiful, but you know your place in the beauty hierarchy (and since every woman ages, every woman’s place will eventually be somewhere at the bottom).
Young women are encouraged to bond over their dislike of excess body hair, surplus flesh and “uneven” skin. They are meant to do so in a jovial way, egged on by perky adverts informing them what “real women” do: worry about having underarms beautiful enough for a sleeveless top, celebrate curves with apologetic booty shakes and cackle ruefully over miserable Sex-and-the-City-style lunches of Ryvita and Dulcolax. It’s a gendered ritual; men get football and booze, women get control pants and detoxes. We are supposed, of course, to be grateful. Hey, you don’t have to be perfect! Just know you’re not perfect and act accordingly, with the appropriate levels of guilt and shame!
Fairy tale after fairy tale tells us that what matters is being beautiful “on the inside” but what does that really mean? It means submission, obedience and the suppression of one’s own desires. Don’t be haughty and proud. Clean the hearth. Kiss the frog. Love the beast. Suck it up when you’re replaced by a younger model. Sure, you may look fine, but you mustn’t feel fine. You mustn’t be vain. You mustn’t be angry. All fury and pain must be turned back on itself. That way you’ll be a real princess: silent, fragile and never threatening to challenge the status quo."
Glosswatch, Almost Famous, real women, and the normalisation of self-hate. (via nextyearsgirl)
2.13 Meditations in an Emergency
Lad Bible’s target audience: guys with quiffs and crappy combovers who wear chinos and that generic Rihanna shirt from Primark. These guys also enjoy a ‘cheeky’ gym sesh and Nandos.
❁❀ pretty pastel colours ❀❁
How come Beyoncé wears crystal-studded leotards, 6” heels and fishnets, but she dresses Blue Ivy, her baby, in regular baby clothes? It really makes you think.
How come Beyoncé chooses to drink alcohol but doesn’t have Blue Ivy drink it? Why is Blue Ivy always being carried around? Why is she so short?