For reasons out of my grasp, I ended up watch '10 years younger' and found myself disgusted by the attitudes on it! For those who haven't had the misfortune of watching it, a woman (it's almost always a woman) who looks her age is taken out into public, where people give their opinions of how old they think she is.
The average is taken, and it's always older than her actual age, and this is terrible! You wouldn't want people to know that you have lived your life, that you have experiences and memories and a personality! All that matters is that people see you as a blonde, twenty-something person with a very stretched, poisoned forehead with no working facial muscles.
The woman, having been told she looks older than she is and that this is terrible, is told that she needs surgery, a hair cut, younger looking clothes, more makeup to hide her face, and if she has grey hairs and is actually aging normally?! Dye it, quickly, before anyone realises that you're not 25 anymore!
Because god forbid that people realise that you're human and therefore not immortal or in possession of eternal youth. What is it with the obsession of covering one's grey hairs? What happened to growing old gracefully? Obviously that's still a possibility for men, what with the 'silver fox' image, and articles like this letting us know that women 'just look older' with grey hair, while men can look 'hunky'. *sigh*
The woman I watched, having had her face sliced and diced, was told that she needed a new haircut. She had long hair. She asked for it to be kept long, but just restyled, or trimmed. The hairdresser put his hand where he was about to cut, and said 'how's that?'. She said 'no, I'd like it about here please', putting her hand a little lower down. He nodded, and proceeded to cut where he wanted to, then showed it to her. 'How's that?' he said. She looked horrified, and said 'No, put it back!' slightly jokingly, because obviously she realised that that was impossible, but - she said no! She specifically said that she didn't want this to be done to her, and he went ahead and did it anyway. Because y'know, he knows best, he's the hairdresser, she's just an old, unfashionable woman!
Which gets me on to this. Women's bodies are seen as public property. If society doesn't like something about you - your fashion sense, your haircut, your face - they will change it for you. Because you don't get a say about your own body. I've seen women brought onto things like the Jeremy Kyle show who'd been growing their hair all of their lives. It was long and it was their pride and joy. Their families didn't like it, they said it 'got in the way', or 'made them look older', and they cut it. On live TV. While the women cried their eyes out, protested and told them to stop. But their families didn't like it, and it's only hair, so what were they making such a big fuss about?
If this is the sort of attitude that society has towards women's bodies, then it's no wonder that things like rape are so often dismissed, trivialised, given other names. 'Grey rape', as a term, shouldn't even exist. And it's because our bodies aren't our own, so why would people even need our consent?
Saturday 24 March 2012
In addition to the body hair thing...
I also no longer buy or use deodorant. That's right, yet another social convention I am opting out of! Take that, society! =P
I was staying somewhere and hadn't packed any. After a few days, my body adjusted to this new routine of not blocking its pores with weird-smelling spray, and started regulating the amount of sweat I produced. And you know what? It's less! I barely sweat at all now that I've stopped using deodorant!
Also, I'm aware of my own smell now - yes, I have a smell! Like male people do! (Well, like all people do, but what with the all of the not having bodily functions (farting, burping, going to the toilet...), body hair, a smell is something we're also not meant to have.)
And it's awesome! I smell like a person, not like cans of deodorant which never really appealed to me anyway. Obviously, if I do vigorous exercise, like anyone, I will sweat. And that's normal. Not disgusting, or 'unfeminine', but human. I don't understand why society wants women to be these ridiculous caricatures with no human body functions. Then you might as well just have a sex doll. Oh wait, that's why...
I was staying somewhere and hadn't packed any. After a few days, my body adjusted to this new routine of not blocking its pores with weird-smelling spray, and started regulating the amount of sweat I produced. And you know what? It's less! I barely sweat at all now that I've stopped using deodorant!
Also, I'm aware of my own smell now - yes, I have a smell! Like male people do! (Well, like all people do, but what with the all of the not having bodily functions (farting, burping, going to the toilet...), body hair, a smell is something we're also not meant to have.)
And it's awesome! I smell like a person, not like cans of deodorant which never really appealed to me anyway. Obviously, if I do vigorous exercise, like anyone, I will sweat. And that's normal. Not disgusting, or 'unfeminine', but human. I don't understand why society wants women to be these ridiculous caricatures with no human body functions. Then you might as well just have a sex doll. Oh wait, that's why...
Body hair
So. Until December, I was 'normal' about my body hair routine. I say that tongue-in-cheek, because surely cutting, waxing, trimming, dissolving or using lasers to get rid of the hair that covers parts of one's body can't be a sane, or rationally thought out conclusion... 'I like that person. I will tear hairs out of my skin in the hopes that they find me more appealing.' I mean - what?
Yes, society has done a good job of making sure that we know that our bodies aren't good enough the way they are. 'Normal' bodies are not represented in the media, so we grow to believe that there must be something wrong with ours. For more on this, I recommend my friend's blog, http://argufemmetative.wordpress.com/2012/03/21/weight-a-minute-ho-ho-ho/. But I digress.
In November, I was in Austria. Azariah was coming out to visit me, so, in the 'normal' fashion, I removed body hair from my legs, I trimmed my pubes, and ran sharp implements over the soft skin under my arms, to make sure that he wouldn't see what I normally look like, because god forbid he should actually see a real human being instead of the airbrushed images we see in the media!
When he arrived and clothes had come off, he said 'Did you shave and trim everything because I was coming out?' I felt... slightly embarrassed, I didn't want him to know that I'd gone through all this effort just for him, I wanted him to think that this was just how I looked. Naturally. Y'know, because women don't grow bodyhair...
Immediately I realised what a ridiculous response and thought process this was. Why the hell would I want to have to go through all that effort, and have to keep it up because people assumed that it was normal? In fact, why should I even do that in the first place? It's not as if bodyhair affects who I am as a person, or even really changes what I look like.
So I decided there and then, that that was it. I would never rip bits out of my body again. And I haven't.
And you know what? No one has commented on the fact that my legs now sport a light covering of bodyhair, or that when I raise my armpits, you can see... wait for it... hair! Not one person has come up to me in the street and said 'Excuse me Miss, I couldn't help noticing that you seem to have more pubic hair than is strictly allowed.'
Because that would be creepy...
Also, I saw this picture: http://hairypitsclub.tumblr.com/post/15133779659/my-self-love-is-not-quite-radical-enough-yet-that
And my first reaction was 'wow, she's gorgeous!' It was not: 'Oh god, her body hair! It's present!'
Yes, society has done a good job of making sure that we know that our bodies aren't good enough the way they are. 'Normal' bodies are not represented in the media, so we grow to believe that there must be something wrong with ours. For more on this, I recommend my friend's blog, http://argufemmetative.wordpress.com/2012/03/21/weight-a-minute-ho-ho-ho/. But I digress.
In November, I was in Austria. Azariah was coming out to visit me, so, in the 'normal' fashion, I removed body hair from my legs, I trimmed my pubes, and ran sharp implements over the soft skin under my arms, to make sure that he wouldn't see what I normally look like, because god forbid he should actually see a real human being instead of the airbrushed images we see in the media!
When he arrived and clothes had come off, he said 'Did you shave and trim everything because I was coming out?' I felt... slightly embarrassed, I didn't want him to know that I'd gone through all this effort just for him, I wanted him to think that this was just how I looked. Naturally. Y'know, because women don't grow bodyhair...
Immediately I realised what a ridiculous response and thought process this was. Why the hell would I want to have to go through all that effort, and have to keep it up because people assumed that it was normal? In fact, why should I even do that in the first place? It's not as if bodyhair affects who I am as a person, or even really changes what I look like.
So I decided there and then, that that was it. I would never rip bits out of my body again. And I haven't.
And you know what? No one has commented on the fact that my legs now sport a light covering of bodyhair, or that when I raise my armpits, you can see... wait for it... hair! Not one person has come up to me in the street and said 'Excuse me Miss, I couldn't help noticing that you seem to have more pubic hair than is strictly allowed.'
Because that would be creepy...
Also, I saw this picture: http://hairypitsclub.tumblr.com/post/15133779659/my-self-love-is-not-quite-radical-enough-yet-that
And my first reaction was 'wow, she's gorgeous!' It was not: 'Oh god, her body hair! It's present!'
Wednesday 7 March 2012
Crawling for bread...
So, I'm normally one of those people who's on time, or even early, for everything. When D'Artagnan and I have been invited to house parties in the past, I've always insisted on getting there at the time it's meant to start, while D'Artagnan has always maintained that no one shows up until about an hour after the start time because otherwise they'll be asked to help set up. I always say that if I ask people to turn up at 7, I'll be ready and waiting for them at seven.
Anyway, I digress. Suffice to say that I don't take being late, or missing things, lightly. I hate the idea of letting people down or disappointing people. I've only just started a new job, and so far I've been 15 minutes early every single day.
Last week, I got a bit of a cold. I went to work as usual, was rather snuffly all day, but was still standing and there was no way I was going to have day off because of a measly little cold. The next day, I went into work again for 8. After about half an hour I felt like I was about to throw up. This went on until my break at 10am, where I just put my head down on my arms and hoped the nausea would fade away before I went back to work.
It didn't. In fact, my stomach started spasming and I ended up retching in the bathroom. Then I felt dizzy and faint and my legs wouldn't really support me. I was told to go home.
After being picked up (I didn't think I should drive in that state) by D'Artagnan, I got back into bed and spent the day feeling hot and cold and shivery and sweaty at the same time. I assumed it'd be gone in the morning. It wasn't, but I didn't have the manager's number to let her know, so I went into work to tell them I was still ill, where I was told I looked 'awful', and sent back home again.
That day the shivers and sweating went, but by 12 I was rather dizzy, and any attempts at walking led to my legs wobbling and threatening to give way underneath me, while the room, conspiring with my legs to keep me from going anywhere, decided to spin around me confusingly.
That day, any time I needed to go upstairs I had to crawl, and any moving about was done by desperately clinging onto the walls. I couldn't go to the shops to buy bread because I didn't trust myself not to fall into the road, and I couldn't crawl all the way into town, as Azariah suggested, multiple times. I think he just wanted the amusing image of me crawling along, clinging on to the pavement, and then trying to crawl back, dragging a bag of shopping. Well hah, that didn't happen! So no image of that for you! Except for the mental one, which I've probably just given you by describing this scenario. Oops! =P
Finally a doctor came to see me, who told me that the virus I'd had had messed up my balance, and I was given some anti-dizzy drugs. Hooray!
The next morning, I took a tablet, and expected to suddenly be better. I wasn't cured yet, and had to miss another day of work! I've barely been there a month, and I've already had 3 days off! This is terrible! People will think I'm one of those people who's always ill, or who takes days off all the time! Noooo!
This morning I got up ready for work, tried walking up and down the corridor a few times and jumped up and down a bit. The dizziness kicked in again and I got back into bed. So this is my fourth day off. FOURTH!!!
I'm pretty sure I'll be ok tomorrow though - I had a shower and got dressed this afternoon! I'm also planning to cut and dye my hair again this evening, woohoo! =D Fingers crossed for being all better and able to go back to work again tomorrow!
Anyway, I digress. Suffice to say that I don't take being late, or missing things, lightly. I hate the idea of letting people down or disappointing people. I've only just started a new job, and so far I've been 15 minutes early every single day.
Last week, I got a bit of a cold. I went to work as usual, was rather snuffly all day, but was still standing and there was no way I was going to have day off because of a measly little cold. The next day, I went into work again for 8. After about half an hour I felt like I was about to throw up. This went on until my break at 10am, where I just put my head down on my arms and hoped the nausea would fade away before I went back to work.
It didn't. In fact, my stomach started spasming and I ended up retching in the bathroom. Then I felt dizzy and faint and my legs wouldn't really support me. I was told to go home.
After being picked up (I didn't think I should drive in that state) by D'Artagnan, I got back into bed and spent the day feeling hot and cold and shivery and sweaty at the same time. I assumed it'd be gone in the morning. It wasn't, but I didn't have the manager's number to let her know, so I went into work to tell them I was still ill, where I was told I looked 'awful', and sent back home again.
That day the shivers and sweating went, but by 12 I was rather dizzy, and any attempts at walking led to my legs wobbling and threatening to give way underneath me, while the room, conspiring with my legs to keep me from going anywhere, decided to spin around me confusingly.
That day, any time I needed to go upstairs I had to crawl, and any moving about was done by desperately clinging onto the walls. I couldn't go to the shops to buy bread because I didn't trust myself not to fall into the road, and I couldn't crawl all the way into town, as Azariah suggested, multiple times. I think he just wanted the amusing image of me crawling along, clinging on to the pavement, and then trying to crawl back, dragging a bag of shopping. Well hah, that didn't happen! So no image of that for you! Except for the mental one, which I've probably just given you by describing this scenario. Oops! =P
Finally a doctor came to see me, who told me that the virus I'd had had messed up my balance, and I was given some anti-dizzy drugs. Hooray!
The next morning, I took a tablet, and expected to suddenly be better. I wasn't cured yet, and had to miss another day of work! I've barely been there a month, and I've already had 3 days off! This is terrible! People will think I'm one of those people who's always ill, or who takes days off all the time! Noooo!
This morning I got up ready for work, tried walking up and down the corridor a few times and jumped up and down a bit. The dizziness kicked in again and I got back into bed. So this is my fourth day off. FOURTH!!!
I'm pretty sure I'll be ok tomorrow though - I had a shower and got dressed this afternoon! I'm also planning to cut and dye my hair again this evening, woohoo! =D Fingers crossed for being all better and able to go back to work again tomorrow!
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