the beauty in not being beautiful...

Genetics are an interesting thing. Some people aren’t happy with their genetics, and others couldn’t be more thrilled. Big noses, fat fingers, bald heads, various talents and personality disorders traits are largely due to genetics. I believe, for the most part, you shouldn’t fuck with genetics.

Unless your name is God and you have a PhD in creating the earth and all the human beings that inhabit it, you are not qualified to go messing with stuff. For this reason, I’m opposed to human cloning and all that nonsense. But we won’t get that deep today. Instead, I’d like to focus specifically on our obsession with attaining the unattainable.

I’m not without so called flaws. Funny, I never thought they were flaws until some asshole pointed them out to me. For instance, I come from a long line of lipless ancestors. My dad doesn’t have lips. My mom doesn’t have lips. Hell, my cat doesn’t even have lips. I never thought there was anything particularly wrong with my lips until someone said, “Wow. You have no lips. I mean…like…NO LIPS.” Well thanks fucker. You’re fat. That’s what I wanted to say. “Wow. You have the biggest ass I’ve ever seen. I mean…like…THE BIGGEST ASS”.  I didn’t though, because I can’t fault someone for loving a cheeseburger.  

Now, I could get some collagen injections to puff my lips into some kind of Angelina Jolie-esque contortion. I’m quite convinced that I would only look like an asshole. This would in no way contribute to beauty enhancement, but rather make me look like a pitiful, self-loathing, previously lipless insecure flake. Makes thin lips not sound so bad after all.

Now true, I’m guilty of wishing I had enough money to get certain ‘work’ done. This is not because my genetics aren’t stellar; it’s because those skinny sluts on TV deceive us into thinking our genetics aren’t stellar.  And why is this? Because fucking Loreal and Maybelline, who claim to love women, really want us to feel ugly so we’ll dump all of our money into their pockets. Because you’re worth it.

From a very young age girls and boys alike are bombarded with society's ideal of beauty; an ideal only attainable by less than one percent of the population and even then it only lasts for a few years. After that, you're just a saggy ole bitch like everyone else. Women starve themselves, worry about how they look, get depressed because one boob is bigger than the other, and shovel money into various beauty products with the hope of reaching perfection. When we've exhausted our options…dieted, exercised, practiced a new makeup technique, and squeezed the last drop from our wrinkle cream tube, we still end up looking only as good as our genetics will allow.

Now, certainly we can force the issue, but then there’s no guarantee of how that shit’ll turn out.

We don't magically morph into the stupid Victoria's Secret model with the intellect of a cotton ball. And thank God for that, ladies. Because while that may be society's ideal, if we actually turned into those women, not only would we still not be satisfied, but men would jump off cliffs left and right. Any man worth having sure isn't going to care about a little nickel damage on your ass. I'm willing to bet my job that they don't notice the microscopic new wrinkle that caused us to drink an entire bottle of wine, consequently dehydrating our body and magnifying it even more. And if they do notice, they really don't give a shit.

I was watching a movie the other day that was made in the mid 60’s. The women considered attractive in those days are a far cry from what we see on TV today.

They were gorgeous, full-figured, and guess what – men liked them just the same. When did it become sexy or desirable to sleep with a bag of bones? I’ve never tried to cuddle with sticks, but if it were good, I imagine pillows would be made out of them. When was the last time you saw a ‘real kindling’ comforter? NEVER. That’s when. Because cuddling with little skinny things is weird. I don’t want my comforter skinny, my cat skinny, or my men skinny either. Give me some fluff.

Now, I’m in no way suggesting that it’s awesome and cool to not give a shit about yourself. I think if you have a bothersome wrinkle, zap that bitch if you’re so inclined. And seriously, if there’s a magic potion to zap cellulite, I would buy that too. But also, we have to remember this…God created us because he’s a little bit of a genius, and if these are the things he made us with then so be it. All of these so called flaws are the human experience, and our obsession with obtaining the unattainable is a damaging fucking thing. Divorces happen over pore size, for God’s sake.

ouch your ribs are poking me

I’ll tell you right now I’m gorgeous. You know what I gauge that against? Jaime Version 1.0. That’s what. Braces and eyeglass technology have taken this little troll a long way. But if I shoot for wanting to look like some super model, well, I’m pretty screwed. But I guarantee you that even a super model looks in the mirror and thinks, “I hate my nose. I wish it were more like Cindy Crawford’s”. or something stupid like that, because she’s not even immune to the craziness.

My point is that it’s all bullshit. Be the best Nancy you can be. Or Sarah, or Darlene. By God, Darlene, love yourself, and make Darlene better than any Darlene before you. Compete with yourself. Not some skinny asshole on TV.

After all, at the end of the day, all you can be is yourself. And truthfully I'd be a miserable S.O.B. if my ribs were sticking out all over the place. I would have to be eating like...two pieces of lettuce a day. My blood sugar would drop and I'd end up killing people.

So tonight when you eat that burrito, you give yourself a high-five, because while you may be eating a few more calories necessary to sustain life, at least you’re living.

Comments

[nadine]

Amen!
I'm 4'11" with freckles.
I wish I could be 6ft and tan....But I'm not.
I rock what I what I got.

[mepsipax]

God is a sick sick scientist if he exists. And, earth is the funniest experiment ever.