Are the Gods of Fashion able to determine right and wrong?

I keep thinking about judgment - what is it exactly?

I know it when I feel it coming towards me - a sense of disapproval, of being "less than", of not measuring up, a sense that I've failed someone somehow.  I don't like being judged.

Unless it's in a competition like an art show or in school because there I'm setting myself up to be judged, I've done my best to prepare, and I'm fairly confident I'll be judged favorably.  Those sorts of judgments have been familiar to me and mostly comfortable since I learned about how school works.

Then there's judgment associated with religion.  Thank God (pun intended) I didn't have to deal with that - my father, an Episcopal minister, taught us that God is LOVE and that's all that we need to know.  The rest is just nice stories and man-made structures.  So I didn't get any of the harsh judgmental fundamentalist Biblical training which teaches that God would punish me harshly if I did anything the Church Fathers perceived of as wrong.  How does the phrase go?  He's an all-forgiving, loving God, but he will damn me to eternal hell if I do anything wrong.  Uh, yeah, right.  No thanks.

Societal judgment - the courts have judges who are meant to impartially decide whether we have done something illegal/wrong or not and what our punishment should be.  The judges sit up high behind an imposing desk.  We are told to stand when they enter, to give them respect.  Quite literally, their Word is Law.  Period.

The court system is not always fair.  There's a huge discrepancy between how rich and poor are treated.  If you have a very good lawyer who knows the system, you will not be judged as harshly as if you have a poor one.  Black men are virtually presumed guilty until found innocent.

It's an imperfect system, but at least it is an attempt at providing impartial judgment based on the facts and compared to a Code of Law which has been developed and tempered over the course of centuries.  In our society, a person has a sense of the rules, and can learn them quite precisely with a bit of research and can know the scope of possible punishments for breaking them.  In that sense, it's not too hard to stay ont he right side of the law.

On the other hand, the Laws of Beauty are quite fickle. There is no one Code of Beauty which a woman can read up on and follow to stay on the right side of the Law.  Instead, it is ever-changing, set by a fashion and beauty industry whose raison d'etre is to make money.  And they make more money when people buy their products (i.e. buy into their version of right and wrong).  It's good for them if the version of right and wrong changes frequently so women have to keep up by buying more - following fickle fashion trends to the letter.  Their other tactic is fear - if you don't follow our rules, you'll...

be a pariah
be ugly
be judged
stink
be fat
be unsuccessful
lose friends
never attract a sexy mate

The punishments are harsh, unforgiving and horrible.  They're also capricious and biased towards wealth.

Wealthy women have a better chance of fitting into the system because they can hire people to help them - personal trainers, beauticians, make-up artists, interior designers, etc., etc., etc.  They have the money to buy the "right" clothes each season, to get their hair done weekly, to buy all the beauty products.   If they were born "ugly", they can get surgery to correct the unflattering aspects of themselves.

Poor people, on the other hand, can't live up to the Code of Beauty without great sacrifice.  Chris Rock's movie Good Hair shows the economic insanity that black women put themselves through to achieve their ideal of Good Hair.  Some spend upwards of $500/month to have their hair done, but they have trouble keeping food on their table.  They will have their daughter's hair done starting at age 2 or 3 - horrible chemicals to straighten or soften their hair.  Harsh judgments against "black hair" cause these women to undertake these Herculean efforts to tame nature.

The problem with judgments about beauty is that they are arbitrary and capricious and ever-changing.  And not everyone can measure up to them.  "Good judgment" I believe would be more like our legal system which virtually all but the criminally insane can live within.

In the Chinese culture, women had to bind their feet to the point of becoming crippled to meet exacting standards to beauty.  Choosing not to follow those rules condemned a woman to a lifetime of harsh condemantion, judgment, and being a social outcast who simply could not live in good society.

In our world in the United States, white skin, good well-coifed hair, expensive fashionable clothes, and thinness allow a woman entree into society in the same way severely bound feet did in earlier Chinese society.
The rules are harsh for the initiated:

get a manicure and pedicure frequently
go to the hair salon every 4 weeks
wax/shave your legs
wave/shave your underarms
wax/clean up your pubic hair by shaving, plucking, cutting, waxing
get rid of "ugly" hair anywhere on the body

apply make-up "just so"

pluck your eyebrows - what's the right shape?  How does one know?

apply creams for

         anti-aging

         anti-wrinkle

         smoothness

         softness

         silkiness

         lighter skin

         a "natural-looking" tan

avoid dryness in skin and hair

don't wear glasses (get lasik surgery)

straighten your teeth (get braces)

whiten your teeth

wear deodorant so no body odor is every evident

wear perfume to create the correct smell (one that will attract the sexy hunk)

wear high heels to give a certain allure to your calf muscles and in order to create the look of helplessness which apparently attracts sexy hunks)

be thin (get a personal trainer, join a gym, diet, go to a nutritionist)

have the right size breasts -

         older women seem to want them smaller

         younger women seem to be enhancing theirs

labia must be beautiful and just so (get plastic surgery if they hang low or are otherwise "disgusting")

thighs must not touch
stomachs must be flat (get a tummy tuck if not)
butts now must be rounded yet firm (since J Lo has come on the scene.  They used to have to be flat and firm.  Thankfully, Victoria's Secret has begun selling panties with pads to help women out.)
lips should be full (get a botox treatment if they aren't)
do not wrinkle
do not age
white is right (use skin-lightening creams and chemicals if you're brown or black, a la Michael Jackson)
wear the latest fashions - but not too slavishly - make sure you have your own, slightly eclectic style

There are a LOT of people who can make a LOT of money from all the treatments necessary to make a woman fit these rigid standards of beauty.

And there's no way to attain perfection.  42 plastic surgeries, and a woman in Argentina is still ready for more. (If I read the Portuguese correctly, now she wants to have a surgery to make her a virgin again.)

There is always someone who will judge what's right or not right about a person.  If a woman doesn't have a strong sense of what is right for her, she can drown in societal expectations.

When I asked one of my heavier models how she managed to love and be comfortable with her body, she told me she was never "in the game" so she simply didn't have to worry about it.  I feel the same way.  I choose not to play.  I don't want to spend the hours upon hours it would take to "groom" myself "just so" in order to fit someone else's version of how I should look.  That's not to say I don't enjoy dressing up and looking nice.  That makes me feel good too.  It's just I don't want to wear high heels, for example, simply because that's a societal expectation for "dressing up".  They cause my feet enormous pain.  It would be unwise for me to wear the heels to satisfy society and hurt myself thereby.

Who decides that eyebrows of a certain shape are beautiful?  How do these "rules" help the species evolve more successfully?  How does following them make me a healthier, more fulfilled, richer human being?  Does it enrich my spiritual health?  My viability as a breeder?  Will it help continue the species?  Or keep the planet healthier?

Some would argue that more beautiful women are chosen more often as partners and thereby beauty products do help us do what we're here for - reproduce.  Perhaps that is true to a certain extent, but since the standards of beauty change constantly, how does that work?

Couldn't we use our time and energy more effectively and in better ways than by obsessing over our bodies and clothes?

Fashion and Beauty are industries.  The point of their existence is to make money.  To keep corporations viable.  It is NOT about right  or wrong.  Or good or bad.  A person is not good or bad based on his/her appearance.  A person's goodness or badness is based on behavior which isn't predicated upon appearance unless a person is so maligned for his/her looks that he/she does heinous acts to relieve the pressure from the shame.

Judgment about looks, then, is arbitrary, changeable, determined by the "Gods of fashion", not by some infallable standard of right and wrong.  The standards have changed over the years and will continue to change.  What else in human history is as fickle as fashion?  How do you choose to life your life?  Trying to hit an ever-moving target?  or focusing on your inner beauty which can be enhanced forever?

Should we compliment each other on our looks?

Last Thursday morning I decided to notice what I wore to my writing class with Valley Haggard.  I chose one of my favorite shirts and a red zip-up hoodie.  Valley complimented me when I walked in on how I look.  I felt giggly on the inside that she noticed and smiled broadly at the compliment.

Later that evening I went to the Orchard House School to hear a talk by noted author Catherine Steiner-Adair.  Her talk was called The Body Image Factor and was about how to help middle school girls retain their sense of self.  It was excellent, and I'll blog more about it another time, but I'm bringing it up now because she said a couple of things which are relevant to this blog.


About 30 minutes into her talk, she commented that many of those in attendance would have already judged her on her appearance and decided she was too _____  (you fill in the blank - skinny, fat, ugly, pretty, etc.) and would have begun discounting what she had to say because of it.  She noted that frequently happens to women - their words and/or actions get discounted because of their looks.


She recommended an antidote to that - that when we greet other women, we NOT say anything about how they look.  Don't say, "You look great!"  "You got your hair cut!  It looks great!"  or anything else referring to appearance.  The reason for this is that it puts an emphasis on looks rather than personality or anything else.  She suggested replacing it with "It is so good to see you!"  or "I'm so glad we could get together today!"


She acknowledged how difficult this can be - she was working with some camp counselors who were about to greet the incoming campers for the week.  She asked them not to comment on the girls' looks when they arrived.  Instead they should say things like I mentioned above.  She said virtually everyone had to bite their tongues many times to keep from commenting on how much the girls had grown, or the fact that they'd gotten their braces off - the list goes on and on!


Hearing her talk about that, I realized that I don't normally comment on how people look when I see them.  I've mentioned here before that that caused some heartache between a former friend and me because she was hurt that I didn't tell her how great she looked - specifically - clothes, hair, etc.- when we would see each other, yet she complimented me heartily.  I often felt a bit overwhelmed by her assessment but flattered by the attention.  I usually didn't think to reciprocate because I was so glad to see her and wanted to hear all about how she was doing and what she'd been up to since we'd last seen each other.  I recognize that commenting on appearance is simply what people do in this society.


I wonder how much of a difference it would make if we stopped doing that and began focusing on other things as Steiner-Adair mentioned.  I think it might begin to shift where we put the emphasis - away from looks and towards more substantive things ideally...


And I recognize that I enjoy being complimented on how I look, especially if I've taken some time to put myself together that day.  I told my husband what Steiner-Adair said, and now he's feeling stymied - like he shouldn't compliment me or he'll be breaking a new rule!  It sure is complicated!

CAUTION:  This blog has some very graphic descriptions of body modifications which  may be disturbing to read.

The other night I wasn't quite ready for bed yet, but Chris had already gone up - that means I got to choose exactly the movie I wanted to watch without trying to figure out what we'd both like to watch that would be mostly OK for both but not quite right for either (unless we hit the jackpot!).  I enjoy documentaries so I flipped through the possibilities on Netflix and saw one called Flesh and Blood.   I don't like horror movies, so that's not what this was.  Rather, it's a very graphic movie about body modification as done by an artist named Steve Haworth.

I had never seen anything like it.

Steve Haworth lives in Arizona and works with people to modify their bodies in ways I'd never even considered.  One of his main pursuits is to insert what appear to be silicon shapes under the skin in order to raise the skin in that shape.  One man had rib-shaped inserts and spheres put on his arm by his bicep.  When he flexed, the bulge would have the shape not only of the muscle, but also of the ribs and spheres.  It was hard to look at. 

One man had more piercings than most.  He decided to have his scrotum pierced because he wanted to be able to put his finger through it.  He also wanted to be able to insert a rod in it so he could feel his prostate.  All of these operations are done without anesthesia because Haworth is not a doctor and is therefore not allowed to use it.

When asked what he's discerned about why people get their bodies modified, Haworth said there are four primary reasons:

The shock value
Aesthetics
Sexual pleasure
For the experience of the pain

Some people take the pain as a challenge.  For others as a spiritual thing.  One woman said that she has learned to perceive pain completely differently from having her body modified.  Knowing how much she can endure when getting pierced or whatever, when pain comes her way in "real life", she knows she can just breathe and get through it, knowing it'll pass, just like it did when she had her body modified.  I bet childbirth is an easy affair for these folks!

Another activity Haworth leads is called Suspension.  He inserts hooks into people's skin and lifts them off the ground so they hang suspended for different periods of time.  One man, the one who had his scrotum pierced, was suspended the entire length of his back, then his girlfriend was suspended from his front by her entire front.  They glowed afterwards, talking about how close they felt and how amazing it was to do that with each other. 

Haworth also has developed a process whereby he can insert things into the skin into which things like spikes and horns can be screwed.  One guy had 12 or so spikes coming out of the top of his head.  He eventually had them taken out because he became a full time father and he was finding that it was simply too difficult to have conversations with people because they were too distracted by the spikes.  Haworth was very sad to take them out, but did so anyway.

There was another man who was part Native American.  His totem is the Cat.  He had a facial tattoo of a tiger/cat, and Haworth has modified his face to make him look more like a cat.  His upper lip is split.  His nose has been sewn down to his upper lip so it is flatter like a cat's.  I believe he has claws on his fingers.  He had a ridge inserted above his eyes so his facial structure is more like a cat's.

When I watched a Lady Gaga video the other day, I noticed her odd cheekbones and shoulders and wondered if she had inserts put in there.

It was very uncomfortable watching this video.  They showed many of the people getting the procedures done and the pain they experienced.  It opened up a whole new world to me, though.  And it helped me understand some of the reasons people have for undergoing such procedures.  I found myself wondering what their upbringing was like and what would have brought them to the point where they would feel a need to modify themselves so much.  It did not make me want to get it done to myself at all.  It was absolutely fascinating at the same time as it was horrifying.  I'm glad I watched it - I learned something new - but my goodness!  Yikes!

This journey is taking me some very interesting places and is certainly challenging me to let go of my preconceived judgments.  I continue to find that, as I learn more about why people do things, I become less judgmental and more accepting, even if I wouldn't make the same choices for myself.

Preparing to go out for dinner - should I care how I look? Can I NOT care?

Last night Larkin Garbee, co-owner of James River Tile and Stone Art here in Richmond, hosted a five course Valentine's Weekend Dinner to celebrate the exhibition of my paintings which she is holding at her establishment through March 13.  It couldn't have been more wonderful.  She and her staff did a fantastic job displaying the artwork.  The dinner was delicious.  Each course was paired with a different wine.  Then at the end of the evening there was a raffle.  Four people won the centerpiece from the table, a beautiful candleholder carved out of rugged walnut.  Then the last person won a $1000 commission from me.  I'm very excited about the woman who won - she and her husband have two small children (10 months and 3 years, I think she said), and she'd like to have a picture the kids can feel comfortable with as they grow older.  They're very comfortable with nudity now, and the mom is hoping they'll continue to be so as they get older.  Seeing an image of their mom throughout their lives would only, I would think, increase the dailiness and normalcy of it.  I love her thoughts on it and look forward to painting her!

The Preparations : }
I had to laugh at myself as I was getting ready for the dinner.  I felt very excited about it because I would get to meet a lot of people who are interested in my work, and I didn't have a clue how it would be.  Around 5:00 I pried myself away from the work we were doing stretching a canvas because I knew I would need some time to get ready.  It seemed important to look nice.

Therein lies the irony, right?!  Here I am espousing that women are gorgeous simply because they exist, and I start to get all worried about how I look:

* I need a haircut - my very excellent haircut of 3 months ago is no longer so chic and tidy.
* I hadn't shaved my legs in a month or more - winter takes away that incentive - I was thinking I'd wait til shorts weather, but I figured I'd need to wear stockings, and you never know who'll look/care/notice/judge.
* I considered that I might put on makeup - which for me, at the most, consists of lipstick - which Chris hates because he doesn't like getting it on him - it feels so unnatural to kiss my coated lips too.
* I planned to wear my snazzy red dress which makes me feel brilliantly gorgeous along with a fabulous peacock shawl which a dear friend of mine gave me.  I put on the dress - no problem - then flung the shawl around me.  I tried it this way and that, pulled it over my shoulders and held it in one hand.  Put half of it over my shoulder with the other half hanging down.  Tried it on like I meant it.  Chris looked at me and laughed (in a friendly manner) and told me I am just not the type of woman who can wear a shawl like that - I don't have the right panache.  I don't stride and strut quite right.  I love it when women wear shawls well, but I think he may be right.  I myself am not quite able to pull it off.  So that left me needing to stay warm in a sleeveless dress in mid-February.  I rummaged through my closet with increasing concern that I wouldn't find a thing.  I tried on silk overblouses, but my artist's eye just wouldn't let me wear pink with red or orange with red, and the purple one wasn't the right style.  All the while I was aware of time ticking away.  Finally I chose a mustard colored loose jacket I wore for my opening at October and hoped no one would know it was a tried and true outfit.

All the while, I was thinking about the utter absurdity of worrying about how I look when that's my whole message!

Chris, too, was working hard to look just right.  He wanted to know what color shirt he should wear.  Maroon.  And pants?  Grey.  "Should I really wear grey khakis?  Are they fancy enough?  Should I wear these?"  I replied, "Sounds like you don't think you should wear the grey khakis."  Finally he came to terms with wearing the grey khakis.  Then I noticed that the back pocket was almost worn through, so he had to change them anyway.  Back to the drawing board.

We laughed at our efforts and how different they are from how we normally dress - my standard dress these days is painting pants, a turtleneck, and a sweatshirt.  Some days I'll put on something else if I'm going out first, but usually I'll even go to the store or to teach or to meetings dressed like that.  My social engagements are fairly limited these days to places where being dressed like an artist works.

Chris finally decided on nice slacks, a maroon shirt, maroon and grey tie, black shoes, and a sports coat that almost matched.  I wore my red dress, panty hose, a mustard colored loose jacket, and red shoes with no heels (nothing will get me to wear heels - I had plantar fasciatis (sp?) a few years ago, and heels hurt my foot within moments of putting them on.)

Chris watched me put on the panty hose - it may have been the first time he'd seen me do so.  He asked if all women go through this.  I told him I guess I put them on like anyone else does - gather up the leg all the way to the toe, slip them over the toe then pull them up to the knee.  Do the same on the other foot. Then stand up and grimace broadly while trying to get them up to the waist without creating a run.  Shimmy and squirm and pull and grunt while trying to get each leg even.  Reach inside them to pull up underpants.  Pull up each leg separately to get them up to crotch level so you don't experience a wedgy the entire evening.  Pull up on each leg gently yet firmly so there are no sags or bags without causing a run.  Hope you don't have to pee until you get home again and can get out of the things.

Chris asked why women don't wear stockings like they used to.  I explained about garter belts but then remembered that I used to wear thigh highs when I had to wear anything, and they were a much more comfortable solution, unless they'd lost their elastic and tended to fall down around my ankles while I was carrying a kid from the car to the store or wherever.

Should I care more how I look?
I don't know - I guess I have to recognize that I am simply not equipped to be a fashionista.  I just don't have it in me to care about the right color panty hose for the season or the right shade of lipstick.  Actually, I felt very fashionable (in a sneaky kind of way) over Christmas when my nieces sneered at the idea of wearing lipstick and said no one did that anymore - gross!  Perhaps I'm actually leading fashion trends instead of just being oblivious to and disdainful of them!

Seriously, though, I never have followed fashion trends.  My mother always looks terrific.  She's a snazzy dresser, matching her ensemble and jewelry and other accessories beautifully.  She has a real flair for looking terrific.  But I have never heard her mutter about how she looks or whether something she's wearing is in fashion or whatever.  She dresses without fuss, as far as I know, and looks good.  I don't think she's ever bought a Vogue magazine or anything like that.  So I grew up not really knowing that women worry about how they dress (thank goodness!).  At my high school,  we wore uniforms, so at the time I might have become aware of dress, I didn't.  I'm thankful for that.  My high school was full of very wealthy people who, I'm sure, had wardrobes far more extensive than mine and who probably didn't shop at Sears and JC Penny.  If I had been aware of their wardrobes and had felt a need to compete with them, I think I would have felt quite inadequate.  That could have been painful.  Instead, I put on my black watch kilt, regulation white oxford shirt, blue cardigan, blue knee socks, blue shoes, and camel's hair coat and went out the door to have a great time learning! 

I pay attention to what I wear when I go out, and I like to look nice, but I am blessed with a husband who thinks I am the most beautiful woman on earth no matter what I wear, but he especially likes it when I'm in jeans and a T-shirt, so I don't worry about dressing for him.  The times I get most concerned about how I look are when I'm going out with other women.  I think that's true for most women - we assume our women friends will notice what we're wearing and how we look and may even comment on it.

I think actually, that most of our anxiety about how we look comes from worry about the judgments of other women.  How sad.

How about if we stop talking about looks altogether?
I have an acquaintance who recently had a baby.  She has asked people to NOT comment on how the baby looks - don't tell her she's pretty or cute or any of those other endearments which come so naturally.  I was put off by that at first because I felt stymied - that's what came flowing out of my mouth naturally.  What else was I supposed to say?  But she has really helped me become aware of just how ingrained it is in our society, or at least in me, to comment on a baby's looks - and, of course, it doesn't stop with infants.

What if we stopped commenting on how people look?  What would happen if we began, instead, to comment on their brilliant thoughts?  or their wonderful ideas?  or their courageous actions? or their feelings?  or sensitive thoughts?  I wonder if we would focus on those positives how long it would take to shift things from an outer to an inner focus?

If you're up for it, try it for a few days, and let me know how it feels!  I'm very curious to see what's possible if we give up our worries about our physical selves and focus on our interiors instead...

Loving our bodies unconditionally. Finally.

I am furiously determined and full of righteous anger today, so if that doesn't interest you, then sign out!

I have been confronted this weekend with the judgments of a woman who has no comprehension of the work I do.  She has asked to be taken off my mailing lists.  Of course I have no problem with that - anyone has the right to get the mail they want and to not get what they don't want.  I have no desire to confront people with images of my work - wait, that's not true.  Today I actually want to confront every person in the world with the images of my work. 

I want them to confront their own uptight, rigid, fear-ridden judgments about bodies.  I want them to look at the bodies I've painted, to really see them.  So what if some of the women have tiny breasts?  Or huge pendulous ones.  Or big hips.  Or no waists.  Or saggy butts.  Or 36-24-36 hourglass figures.  Or scars.  Or warts.  Or whatever the fuck they have.  It actually isn't about our bodies, people.

It is about who we are on the inside that counts.  And if we as a society or as an individual are spending all our time focused on the outside package - breasts, hips, thighs, faces, clothes, haircut, shoes, lipstick - whatever - then we are missing the most important thing there is in this world - the gorgeousness of our souls.  We are each of us spectacularly fabulous human beings.  Even the badly damaged ones.  Yes, those of us who are damaged are amazing and deserving of love as well.

And it pisses me off that some people don't get that.  I hate it that they have the gall to judge someone based on their appearance and don't even take the moment to let go of that knee jerk reaction.

Lately I have photographed women who are overweight, who have piercings and tattoos, whom I might have walked past with trepidation in the past because their choices were unfamiliar and uncomfortable to me.  But let me tell you, those women are enriching my life immensely.  I am finding a depth of soul in them that I LOVE.  They are deep, rich, soulful women with an enormous capacity for love, self love included.  Heavy though they might be, they have come to terms with their bodies.  They love them.  Yes, they love their breasts and their bellies and their hips and their thighs.  All the parts that would make some people walk past them and sneer.  What a loss to those frightened people to miss the soulfulness.  Do your own work, people.  It's your stuff if you can't see their humanity. 

A dear friend shared her belief with  me that we are all part of God's artwork.  The old gnarled tree in the forest doesn't deserve our distain just because it isn't bright and young and perky and flexible and springy.  We don't usually detest a tree.  We respect its age.  We look at the crags and splits and wounds and admire the patterns that have been created by the years of being alive.

Why can't we do that with people?  Why do we judge people's appearances?  Why do we ignore elderly men and women?  Are we really so frightened of our own mortality?  Of our own ugliness?

I encourage you to not give in to those fears.  I encourage you to sit with them, to become aware of them, to journal about them, to let yourself feel them fully.  Only then will you be able to see others with compassion.  Only then will you be able to face yourself with compassion.

 

Imagine standing in front of the mirror and caressing your body.  Tell yourself with utter love and compassion how deeply you love yourself.  Allow yourself to feel all the pain you've taken on about your appearance - the comments you've overheard from others, the insistence others have thrown at you that you be or look different than you do.  Look at your own flesh while you do that.  Know that you are precious.  A child of God.  Deserving of unconditional love.  Your body is the vehicle for your soul here on Earth in this lifetime.  How can you NOT treasure and bless it?  It is allowing you to be here right here, right now, walking or crawling or sitting or standing or lying on this planet right now, today, in this very instant.  You are experiencing the amazing gift RIGHT NOW of being with yourself in all your glory and your pain and your suffering.  Perhaps you can feel a glimmer of hope, the thread of hope that you, yes, YOU, are deserving of love.  That you are a worthy person.  That you deserve to be loved.  Nothing but love. 

Lasting Impressions III

A friend of mine's daughter-in-law recently gave birth to a baby girl.  The mother, Sally, has decided that she doesn't want anyone to say anything to the child which has anything to do with how she looks.  Nothing.  Not, "Oh, what a pretty baby!"  "Aw, aren't you cute?!"  "What precious little hands!"  NOTHING.  I felt so put off when I heard that. I was surprised by the strength of my feelings so had to examine them carefully.  I realized that I felt like I couldn't say a thing to the baby without her mother jumping down my throat. But now I'm beginning to understand.  It is SO completely normal for us to comment on a child's looks that I can barely even think of anything else to say to a baby!  Now I appreciate Sally's desire to protect her child from all those judgments - even if they're positive - and to allow her the opportunity to develop her own self image around how she looks, free from the opinions of others.  I don't know if that's possible, but I can see aspiring to it.

Here are some of the comments which people on Facebook shared with me - comments which have stuck with them their entire lives.  Some are positive, some negative.  All, I hope, will help me remember to think before I speak and to notice the judgment inherent in even my most innocuous comment!

     * MIS: My mother told me I could never be happy if I was fat. She was wrong.

• DS: Boarding school cadets yelling out "Thunder thighs" when I passed by the barracks to the mess hall. It was totally humiliating. It probably plays a role in why I don't like to wear shorts.
  

  
  
• TE: ‎"I just don't want you to turn out like me."
• EBS:  Don't smile so widely. Your teeth are too big.
• SBG:  Your nose looks like you ran into a parked car.
• DB: It is amazing to me that we only remember (for a LONG time) the negative comments. (Me too, btw.) Did we ever receive positive ones that we simply don't remember, or that we somehow discounted?
• HV: ‎"Vaughan, you're a physical degenerate!" (Said by my 7th grade coach in front of the entire 7th grade.)
• SBG: I remember lots of positive stuff.
• BK:  Beauty runs deeper, who knows why one would say unkind words about anyone's body unless they are insecure about themselves. Here's a funny one: Junior yr. (only girl in the class) on the chalk board it said, "Bobbie belongs to the itty bitty titty committee." I said whoever wrote this might want to erase it before Mr. Hartman walks in or you'll be doing tour duty all weekend. In which it was promptly erased. As if that guy or anyone of em would have ever rocked my petite supple beautiful breasts.
• One word sums it up confidence in your skin. Btw, the Man I married, my best friend had a childhood accident at the age of 5, 60% of his body was badly burned. I still feel in love!!!
• BS: ‎(in an admiring tone, not crude,) "You have hips good enough to birth my children!" I was 17, dancing to the Rage at a house party, and didn't know until that moment that I was particularly "hippy"... and so the instant realization was accompanied by a surprising sensation of pride. I knew I lived in a culture that considered hips a negative, in the media, at least and so, I felt transformed and liberated.
• KB: ‎"When you came down the stairs, you took my breath away." Said by the man I was smart enough to marry, one new years eve....uh...20 years ago.
• HV: I my case, it took until I was about 45 and started ballroom dancing to realize that teacher/coach must have been rather bitter about himself and that he was wrong.
  
  Teachers say they want to change lives...
  
  

  ND: “You have the moves of a great dancer.”

   (Overheard)  “She’s built like a boy.” 
  ELM: In your mouth a few minutes, in your stomach a few hours and on your hips the rest of your life. AND You are going to end up being a middle aged fat woman gone to pot!

  
  

Lasting Impressions II

The 99th Monkey left the following stories about what people said to him which left a lasting impression on him:

Since I never went to summer camp as a young kid, gym class in 7th grade was the first time I ever had to undress in front of other boys. The different genital sizes were glaring, and the word we were using back then was "meat." My best friend told me once that "you have no meat."

In contrast to many women (I'm assuming), apart from that one comment, I can't remember ANY comments from ANYBODY about ANY part of my body, EVER! Oh, I just remembered--in my 40s I developed a belly, and my mother once said, "What do you have, a tumor in there?" She now has Alzheimer's, and I lost weight.

Another man shared a story about shared showers in high school and his experience there, then went on to share other, more positive experiences:

The communal showers in the male dorms at [my boarding school] were a hard place for me. Experiences, not of words, but of others scoffing and laughter about my body are harsh memories from those days. Not everyone, but a few who fit into my category of jerks.

A more positive experience of a doctor who asked me as a 14 year old about my body's sexual functioning. It was fine. A moment of confidence building.

But the greatest impact has been in my relationship with my wife. We have the kind of love and intimacy which has been so affirming. We are both overweight 50-somethings. But she has so intentionally lavished love on me (and I on her) that the gift our bodies are to each other is life and perspective transforming. Simple words like, "I love your body," "Your body gives me so much pleasure," and "I love the way your body does ...," are so affirming. I think this is part of what life and love are about. We have found partnership, and part of it is the physical connection we feel in each other's bodies.

I had thought, when I asked this question, that most of the responses would be from women.  Somehow I keep being surprised when men respond as strongly to my blog as women do, but they are making it very clear to me that men suffer from the same types of body image issues as women do.  I think it used to be more of an exclusively female issue, but the media has begun to show impossibly fit men as much as they do women, leading men to have horribly impossible expectations for themselves just like we do.

Interestingly, when I look at this beautiful picture of the man's abs, I know it isn't what most men look like or could look like or even should look like.  This man has a very unusual physique. 

But when I look at a similar picture of a woman, I immediately think that's what I should/could look like.  I wonder what that's about?

Lasting Impressions I

A couple of days ago I posted a question here on the blog and on Facebook asking,
 

What is the statement someone made to you about your body which left the most lasting impression?

I have gotten some very heartfelt responses to the question.  I'll post them here in the next few days.  Some of the statements were hurtful to the recipients.  Some were affirming and positive.  When I look for a common thread, what I notice is that the person who made the comment was expressing his or her judgment about the other person's body.  It may or may not have been True.  But the speaker apparently thought it was.  And the recipient took it as the Truth, thus the lasting impression.

Here's the first one.  (And thank you to the woman who shared this.  I believe we all heal a bit when we read about other's experiences and realize we weren't the only ones who hurt, who thought we were "less than", who took on what others told us.)

Oh, that one's easy.  (And it could explain a lot!)  When I was a young girl (8th/9th grade I'd say), I had a best friend who lived next door to me.  She was as shy as I was, but somehow she was "cuter" than I.  More people liked her, she had more friends than I did.  I used to try to "be" like her. 

I will always remember a comment my dad made to me one day.  He always believed in telling me "the truth" (his truth, but I sure didn't know that back then).  I remember the comment vividly - I even the room we were standing in.  Dad said, "Quit trying to act like Catharine.  You look silly.  She is sexy, and you are not."

Even today, I can't believe that he said that to me.  I'm sure he didn't intend to hurt me or make me feel small; it was simply his version of the truth.  He may have thought he was helping me 'find' my own niche and what was right for me.  Or perhaps he simply didn't want to see me as sexy (I wasn't back then anyway, but that's beside the point).  All I know is that I was destroyed by that comment, for years.  I'm 49 years old today, and I STILL remember it vividly. I figured out along the way that it was his OPINION, but it still hurt. I felt like I could never compare, that my tall gangly body was not attractive.  (It didn't help when Catharine's mom said once around the same timeframe that I looked "stately".  Hello.... what pre-teen/young teen wants to look STATELY??!)

Yup, the "You're not sexy" comment made me pretty much decide that my body didn't measure up by any standards for a very long time. 

Erect Nipples

I followed a link on Facebook to watch a video on YouTube which someone had recommended.  It was completely stupid, a real bust, so I looked around while it was playing.  I saw a link to a page about breasts so I decided to click on it to see what it was about - i.e. if it might be something for this blog.  It was a picture of 15 actresses whose nipples were showing through their clothing.  The captions to the pictures were things like the following:

Packing tic tacs, smuggling peanuts, flashing high beams, pimping wingnuts – there are many names for this common yet captivating phenomenon. When a woman has prominently erect nipples clearly visible through her clothing, the room takes notice – whether with a stifled snigger or a lascivious leer. And when those women are actresses – babes with some of the hottest chassis on the planet – the whole world stops and stares. And who can blame us? We wonder whey these lovely ladies don’t take preventative action – but then that’d be spoiling the fun. Here are 15 of the best pokies on the planet.

I don't normally read smut - I know it exists, of course, and I rant against it, but I found it interesting to actually read some and to see how denigrating it is to women - no surprise, I know.

The writer queries, "We wonder why these lovely ladies don't take preventative action."  Well, most of the pictures were informal, grabbed by the paparazzi while the actresses were going about their daily life, not dressed up for the spotlight.  I would wish that people would have enough common decency to allow people their privacy rather than spreading such pictures for the world to see.

Then there's the question of what is so lascivious about nipples?  What would make someone "snigger" or "leer" at them?  Everyone has them, men included.  So what if they show through a shirt?  The question could be asked - what is so weird about that?  My anklebone shows through my socks sometimes.  Should I worry about lascivious leers if someone should notice?  Occasionally my shoulders are exposed if my sleeve slips up.  In China, the feet were the most erotic body part by far, causing women to have to bind their feet to keep them child-size and the women incapacitated for all intents and purposes.  It is so strange the way different societies make certain body parts into fetishes.  We seem to have chosen nipples (in this article at least) and condemn women for having the audacity to allow theirs to stand erect (an uncontrollable occurrence - kind of like goosebumps).

I am disgusted.

And fascinated.

And curious.

And appalled.

I would prefer to be able to wear whatever I want however I want and not have others judge me.  What a concept, huh?

Continued from yesterday:  another thing about judgment that fascinates me is how insidious it is and how subtly our judgments form.  This week I've been listening to the book Body Surf by Anita Shreve.  It's a fine book - nothing special, but nice to listen to while driving around doing errands, etc.  In it she is describing what a woman is wearing - I won't get the quote just right, but Shreve writes something like, "She was wearing a very unfortunate choice for a 60-year-old - a sleeveless white top which lets her arms show."  What do I get from that?  The fear that when I'm 60 I shouldn't wear a sleeveless white top which shows my arms or else someone will judge me.

And then what?

What happens to the judgments?

Do they harm me?  Even if I don't know about them?  Or do they harm the person having them?

What happens to them?  Are they in the ether?

What do they say about the judge?  Why do we judge others? 

I'm really thankful that I didn't grow up with all sorts of strictures about what I was supposed to or not supposed to wear.  I guess I knew you're not supposed to wear white pants after Labor Day - or perhaps I learned that after I left home.  But I'm left wondering why not?  Is there a white pants police?  What will happen if I do?  Why does it matter?  Who really cares?  And WHY?

I know judgement hurts when it lands on me.  I don't like it when someone I care about judges me or something I've done or a choice I've made.  I try very hard to be thoughtful and careful in my choices, so when someone judges them, it sometimes challenges me.  I usually feel sad or wrong or bad.  It takes a while to rebound and to remember that my choice was thoughtfully made, and I feel sorry that the other person doesn't like it.  It usually causes a rift between me and the judge.

Likewise when I judge someone else.  There is then a rift between us because I'm holding my judgment between us, whether I've been indiscrete enough to share it or not.  I'm still thinking it and wanting  him/her to be different than he/she is.

What I often find if I take the time to reflect, is that something the other person has done has triggered something in me that I'm uncomfortable with.  For example, if I judge someone for being overweight - I don't have to look very far to find the cause of that - I'm afraid of being overweight. 

What are your thoughts about judgment?  Do you catch yourself being judgmental sometimes? Any thoughts you'd be willing to share about it?

I'm looking for some good books to read about this topic and would be grateful for suggestions if you have any.  Thanks!

The Visible Vagina

My darlin' husband, ever on the lookout for things I can write about on my blog, found this exhibit in one of my art magazines:

http://www.davidnolangallery.com/exhibitions/2010-01-28_the-visible-vagina/

It's in NYC and is called The Visible Vagina.  It's a series of pictures done by both men and women on vaginas.  I think the artistic quality of the pieces varies - some I find compelling, others not so much.  I found it interesting to look at the pieces and to try to determine whether I thought they were done by a man or a woman.  I'm not sure why it was so evident, but I was usually correct.  I think there's more sympathy and understanding in the women's pieces.  The men's pieces were generally more about sex or perceiving the women as sexual objects - not so surprising, really - and quite interesting to see so clearly.

I also found that I was uncomfortable looking at most of the pieces.  Chris had sent me the link then came into the room when I was looking at the show.  I felt embarassed, like I had been caught doing something I shouldn't be doing - looking at representations of vaginas.  It was almost like I was caught looking at porn.  I realized that the discomfort I was feeling might be similar to what people sometimes feel when they look at my female nudes.  There was the voyeuristic part of me, wanting to see vaginas and what they look like to those artists.  There was the artist wanting to examine the pieces artistically.  And there was the mother, who would have been very embarassed if my kids had seen me looking at it - even though it was art.  I found myself questioning the intentions of the different artists - to thrill, to provoke, to inform, to offer beauty?  I felt some judgments when I didn't like the piece or if I thought the intention behind it wasn't pure (i.e. didn't go along with my intentions, most likely!)

It was an interesting set of feelings to experience.  I think it helped me understand some of the responses to my work better.  There are definitely certain boundaries that everyone has.  Mine may be further down the road than some peoples', but this set of pictures helped me recognize that I still have some places I'm not completely comfortable going!  Very cool!