In a world driven by likes and filters, it’s safe to say we are probably the most self-conscious, most objectified, and therefore most tired, disillusioned, and perhaps cyclically depressed generation ever. But that’s just a guess.
And why wouldn’t we be?
We begin our days oh just casually scrolling through flawless #iwokeuplikethis posts, chew our lunches to Facetuned food coma bellies for #foodcoma or #skinnyfat posts, and conclude our pretty standard, unworthy-of-a-post days with popular #makeup selfies of double-filtered, double plumped, fully made-up people, in bed, hash tagged #longday and #tired. This cycle is BEAUTY HELL!
I don’t know about you, but I usually wake up with a puffed up face. My bed? It’s like a murder mascara scene with suspect lashes everywhere, but mostly on my cheeks and pillows. When I eat fancy pasta at a fancy New York restaurant, I usually actually eat the pasta and can look up to three to four months pregnant by normal human standards depending on whether or not I eat the bread.
Also, after a long day working, I just want to lay in bed and check my phone. I’d really rather not freshen up my makeup or straighten my baby hairs or stage my bed into something that it’s not: it’s just a bed. But mainly because it’s usually 11 pm by now, and I am really just #tired.
The point is, we have some ridiculous and unattainable goals of what it takes and means to be beautiful out there. Our beauty standards are completely distorted: we’re talking about Facetuned FOOD BELLIES for God’s sakes! And as a result, our collective self esteem is as wavering as a kite in really crappy weather. It’s exhausting to be and feel beautiful these days. Honestly, it’s pretty defeating to even try.
I have nothing against reasonable cosmetic procedures and/or natural or digital enhancers if they can make anyone feel better or overall happier with and about themselves. What I do have a problem with—yes, this is the point of my rant—is a lack of dialogue about what beauty really is, what beauty isn’t, and what real life looks like. So here’s the deal, just in case you need to hear it today:
Beauty is what you think beauty is, but please—form your opinion without considering the screens before you, and perhaps go a little inwards, too.
Being beautiful doesn’t equal happiness. You can try for it, but I don’t guarantee it.
Real life is actually pretty unpretty. It’s pesto in your teeth after a hard-earned meal, smile lines from seeing your mom after a whole semester, and every other unique imperfection that makes you you, by trademark.
So try it for a day: let go of the need to be perfect with me, and be proud to be unpretty too.
Stephanie Fantauzzi was photographed in New York City by www.eduardovongarcia.com.
We love women who aren’t afraid to be themselves—no matter how, no matter what.
We love the story of Simone Anderson, we don’t have anything against a good breast lift, and we’re also into Botox: but that doesn’t mean we won’t try a little holistic medicine every once in awhile.
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