And for once I was SuperMom

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Model Magic

            For Christmas I bought my husband a nice sweater.  I bought it online as sneaking away sans children to purchase clothes secretly seems a nigh incomprehensible task.  As I scrolled through the pages of sweaters on I giggled to myself,
            ‘Ooooo, these boys are pretty,’ I thought.  At the perfectly mussed men, their bedroom eyes smoldering, trying to sell me that striped merino wool sweater.  I never have expected Scott to look like that.  In fact I don’t think that I would want him to, I think it would make me feel self conscious.  I’ve never liked pretty boys, I’ve always liked my men a little rough around the edges. 
            Then I clicked on over to my section of the website, I felt the balloon of my self esteem deflate again as I looked at each sweater, trying to decide if that cut of fabric would look good on me.  Of course it looks good on the tall thin model, but how would it hang on my shorter, and stockier frame.  As I felt that psst of self love leave me it struck me,
            ‘Maybe Scott doesn’t expect me to look like these models, just like I don’t expect him to,’ seems elementary, right?  Why do I expect myself to look like them?  How many have you felt that ‘psst’ and thought, ‘if only I could loose this many more pounds…if only I could figure out how to do my hair like that…if only…’  Psst.
            Reality check.
            He doesn’t seem to care.  He seems pretty happy with my body.  I seem pretty happy with his.  I don’t want a model, I want him.  With that sly grin that he gets when he says something sneaky funny.  With that soft look that he gets after we fight and we say we’re sorry.  With that passion that he has for helping people.  
           So why do I care?  Why the ‘psst?’  I have had two children, I’ve never been one to think that my value lies only in my appearance, why do have that pressure on my head?  Where did it come from?
I don’t watch much television.  We don’t watch that many movies.  I don’t read that many magazines.  The less ‘entertainment’ that I put in front of my face the better I feel about myself.  The more I spend in the ‘real’ world looking around at the women in my life the more pretty I feel.  None of us look like those Gap models, but I think that my friends are so beautiful.  I don’t compare them to people I see in magazines or movies, I don’t expect them to look perfectly coiffed.  Why would I expect that from myself?
           Because expectations of beauty that are placed on women are different than those that are placed on men.  We are told we are not valuable unless we look like that.  We are told that the ultimate in life is to achieve a some level of physical perfection.  An ideal that very few of us can fill is continuously trotted before us.  Isn't it so much easier to focus on my mind?  Can't I actually make myself smarter by learning.  But I can go so far with my appearance.  Can't I make myself a better person by being kinder, reaching out more.  Loving more?  Isn't that something worth doing?  Rather than spending time shopping and fretting over makeup?
           It’s also nice to take a moment and remind myself that those individuals have had a team of, yes, a team, of people coiffing them, whereas I only have myself and some limited knowledge of beauty styling tips gained from the little amount of Cosmo that I have read.
           Some days it’s just nice to take a break from my appearance, to not put on makeup, to pull my hair back, to throw on yoga pants and forget the rest. 
           Now if only I could figure out how to shop online without looking  at those ridiculously pretty models.


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