Today I am admitting something: I am not perfect. Not. Even. Close. Ha! Not so much a revelation, huh? Feel cheated? Tricked? Well, I have another confession. And I hope we’re still friends after it. I’m about to do something I thought I’d never do, that I thought was silly and trivial and narcissistic. And here I am. About to do it. “What?” you may be asking? You sitting down? I’m about to bite the bullet and go to a salon with one of my besties to get…No. Not fake boobs. Not Botox. Or something similarly appalling. But something else unspeakable...fake eyelashes! Why? Good question. And I’ll try to answer without seeming like…a boob myself! As a Christmas gift, I got a gift card to my favorite salon, filled with all kinds of goodies from facials to massages and to now, it seems, fake eyelashes! I’ve secretly always wanted to try them. But thought: I am not that superficial. Who does something like this? And here I am, about to take the plunge. Tress up my eyes. Ditch mascara, maybe for an eternity! We all have our insecurities. Right? Who among us REALLY likes the way we look. There are certain things I will just never like about myself—the length of my legs, the way I overthink things, the way my two front teeth seem to come out maybe a little too far, how much smarter my brother is than me…and… I could go on, but you get the idea. But my eyes have never been one of them. I don’t mind them. I like the way they change color. I like that I have 20/20 vision (even though I occasionally wear fake glasses. Dear god. I’m a mess!). So why the eyelashes? Well, why the hell not? That’s the best answer I can give! I've got nothing profound here. I work hard for a living. I earn my own money. And as I age, I find it harder and harder to find anything that doesn’t irritate my skin, mascara or eye liner often one of them. So why the hell not? It might be fun. I might have more confidence. Maybe I’ll become less shy. Maybe I’ll feel, for just a moment, that I am glamorous, that maybe, I’ll blink my eyes and feel the weight of luxurious eye lashes against my skin, and for once, become comfortable in my own skin. Highly unlikely. But at the very least, it will remind me never to judge why people might do what they do, cosmetically or otherwise. It’s not my business or for me to decide. Sometimes, we just feel the need to try something new, have an adventure, crawl out of our comfort zones to find the comfort and acceptance we all crave. And this 2019, I’m no longer going to worry about what other people think of me or my choices, or question why I have the urges I do, but instead, sit back, and say: Damn it. That was fun. And then maybe wink with the best damn eyelashes a girl could ask for! ;)
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Today I ponder plastic surgery and social media filters. What say you on these topics? In news this week, there have been many reports about something the media is calling: Snapchat Dysmorphia. (Don’t you just love when they come up with these catchphrases everyone latches onto?) CBS reported: “Plastic surgeons are sounding the alarm on a disturbing trend that's emerged with the growing popularity of social media: patients seeking cosmetic surgery to resemble how they see themselves in Snapchat filters,” which has “people requesting fuller lips, bigger eyes, or a thinner nose in order to look like the filtered or photo-edited versions of themselves.” I have longed worried about this. Not the plastic surgery idea. I never in my wildest imagination thought that it would lead to plastic surgery increases to this extent, but I have worried about the foolish filters and annoying filter of Snapchat. (Sorry to those who love them. That is your call.) I remember when Snapchat first got popular, and I said to my hairdresser: “I don’t get it? What is the difference between that and other forms of social media formats?” And she responded: “You can make yourself look so much prettier and cuter. Look I’ll show you. Everyone looks good in these filters!” They do? Bunny noses? Or big ol’ Puss ‘n’ Boots eyes? Bubble heads? I didn’t get it. Still don’t. And refuse to get it. I’ve blogged about body image denial before and its devastating effects (SEE ARTICLE HERE ) as well as INTERPERSONAL ISSUES FROM SOCIAL MEDIA, but this goes even further. Altering one’s body and face to LOOK like the fake pictures is startling. Doctors themselves who make a living off plastic surgery are saying that these trends “lead to the development of body dysmorphic disorder, or BDD, a mental health condition in which a person is preoccupied with a nonexistent or minor flaw in their physical appearance.” We all dislike things about our bodies or faces. But isn’t that what makes us unique? Too-large breasts that hurt our backs or too-small breasts that make clothes shopping so disheartening we may fall into depression may be reason for plastic surgery. A deformity of some sort or a health risk may be other reasons. And maybe these things or others aid in people's self-esteem and so does a world of good for them. I don't know. But these Snapchat filter requests are for little things. Minute. Things only the "filter user" or "snapchatter" sees in him/herself. And the plastic surgery is to address these little flaws (real or perceived) with big consequences. It’s alarming to say the least. Why are we going backwards when it comes to appearances and looks? I thought we were moving in a more substantive direction, but this is proving the contrary. We're becoming more and more superficial, and I have no idea why. Is it technology? Is it that for the first time, we have ways to combat our physical insecurities? But. It's. Not. Real! Does any of that matter to anyone anymore? Are the lines of real and fantasy becoming so blurred that there is no difference? And this plastic surgery is no longer a thing for celebrities. The increase in plastic surgery is directly related to selfies and social media. “The number of people seeking plastic surgery because they want to improve how they look in selfies has been increasing. A 2017 survey from the American Academy of Facial Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery sound that 55 percent of surgeons report seeing patients who mention selfies as a reason for requesting surgery.” Further, something I echoed in my earlier blog above, a Boston University study stated that the “impact of digitally-perfected selfies may be especially harmful to young people… Filtered selfies especially can have harmful effects on adolescents or those with BDD because these groups may more severely internalize this beauty standard.” So where does that leave us? And where do everyday people get the money for plastic surgery? They probably can’t, and therefore, wallow in self-hatred behind filters and social media, becoming more and more trapped in a virtual reality. Will the future bring us only virtual interactions where we can use Snapchat to alter our noses and eyes? Will we ever meet people in person again, too afraid they won’t like our REAL noses and eyes? Or will the future basically turn people into perfect clones of each other, robots?
I do fear for the future and choose NOT to use Snapchat. I don’t show my face on social media because I can’t and because of what I write in a world of what I call: Erotica Judgmentals. 😊 (Like that?). I can't tell you how many times I've talked about that. (CLICK HERE for one.) So a big sorry goes out to all my students who will have to look at my mug for 15 long weeks soon. Oh well. Reality’s a bitch. Get used to it. Arti:cle used CBS News. https://www.cbsnews.com/news/snapchat-dysmorphia-selfies-driving-people-to-plastic-surgery-doctors-warn/. 6 August 2018. Today I ponder looks and body image in today’s society and ask: Do you believe body image and looks matter less and less, that we are finally starting to see people and souls and energies behind the masks, or do you think it’s worse than it has ever been? Do people put too much stock into the way they look? Do you? I don’t know about you, but I think we all have body issues. Find me one person who is completely satisfied with the way they look, and I’ll eat crow. Perhaps it was something one person said a long time ago in childhood, or worse, during those awkward stages of braces or acne. For me, it’s always been my legs, that they aren’t dancer legs, long and lean, but instead, shorter and more defined. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to accept my perceived flaws a bit more. It’s a beautiful thing when you find love, and where those things you once dreaded or hated about yourself, say freckles for instance, have now become the focal point of affection, and suddenly, you’re quite proud you have them. And in a society where the Kardashians are “news” (gag), and where people watch this show like a religion to see what styles they will don now or what weight they will lose or what color their hair may be or what latest plastic surgery they can get to alter their looks, it’s hard to think we’ve come that far. Never mind all the book covers we see daily with perfect women or sculpted, perfect male abs. Heaven forbid a woman (or man) may not buy our books unless someone’s pectoral muscles are front and center. Show me a man in glasses reading a book, and I’m more likely to buy your book! But I know, I’m in the minority. I’m not naïve to think otherwise. Sometimes on social media, I find it to be a breath of fresh air in that many of us don’t know what each other fully looks like, and so, we base our decisions of “likability,” or as Facebook likes to call it, “friendship,” on not looks but instead, personality or work or behavior. A student made me rethink even that though. She proposed a thesis that stated: "Too many people base their self-esteem on the number of likes they get on social media apps where they can change their appearance to look different than what they are. I believe those false filters should be stated up front or banned altogether." I never really thought about that. I don’t have Snapchat and I only just started on Instagram, but I guess most people use it to show pictures of themselves and alter them, that the app allows that, to make prettier faces, cute bunny noses, hip sunglasses, and on and on. Still, I stuck to my guns regarding why people may “like” another. It’s their heart or soul, you know, that proverbial: “It’s the-inside-not -the-outside-that-counts mantra. After reading her thesis, I was reminded of when I went to see The Black Panther, and a promo teaser for the movie "I Feel Pretty" came on, and I wondered, as I watched it, if there would be backlash about it (of course, there is). I'm a huge fan of Amy Schumer --I must admit--and found myself laughing at the trailer and quite impressed with her candor to strip and show herself naked, with all her imperfections, unfiltered and unedited, that maybe we were getting somewhere, that maybe at long last, the quest to be the perfect size or to emulate the perfect look is a thing of the past. But in a NY Times article, it stated that the premise and message of the movie, that “looks don’t matter” is utter bullshit, a lie the media is trying to stuff down our throats, that looks matter more than ever, especially for women, today. Amanda Hess writes in the article: "The reality is that expectations for female appearances have never been higher. It’s just become taboo to admit that…This new beauty-standard denialism is all around us. It courses through cosmetics ads, fitness instructor monologues, Instagram captions and, increasingly, pop feminist principles. In the forthcoming book ‘Perfect Me,’ Heather Widdows, a philosophy professor at the University of Birmingham, England, convincingly argues that the pressures on women to appear thinner, younger and firmer are stronger than ever...Along with YouTube makeup tutorials and Instagram fashion influencers, beauty-standard denialism has exploded online...."
So I ask you: Is female appearance higher than ever as this article espouses? Or are the Dove-type commercials, and the like, slowly changing that stereotype? The NY Times article says no. Me? I’m not quite sure. Everything I wrote above could, very well, be what Ms. Hess has written in her article as “denialism.” You can read it in full here: Article here: https://www.nytimes.com/2018/04/23/movies/i-feel-pretty-amy-schumer-beauty.html Do any of you women have short hair? And heterosexual men—do you prefer short or long hair on “yo’ woman?” Yup. That is the basic thrust 😉 of today’s #ThursdayThoughts. Hair! But bear with me. It’s going to take me a little while to get there. But you know me by now! Last week, I tackled something pretty serious and slightly profound, so this week I thought I’d take it down a notch. You may be asking what the holy hell I’m talking about hair for? In a world gone Big-Brother mad right now, I stopped and did something completely mindless and without deep thought. I watched "The Bachelor." Yes. That cheesy, contrived TV-show that pits women against each other in a game of wooing and competition to see who can win the man. What ensues is a journey to find “love” but of course we all know, it’s a journey to win, to connive, to become what it takes to succeed, the weaker players easily weeded out early on. It’s all rather foolish and sick and shallow and yet, is it? How is it really any different than any other game or contest? Are we against all contests? Why is this one deemed so ‘wrong’? Does it require stamina? Yup. Skill? You bet it does. Taking risks and overcoming fears and phobias? Hell, yes. I wouldn’t do half those things they are required to do! Intelligence? Yes. On many levels it absolutely DOES require a deep amount of emotional and social intelligence, and even intellect. The smart ones do rise to the top. People look at it and think it’s about looks only. But don’t looks just come down to personal preference? Attraction is so much more than that, and we all know it and often can’t even explain why we’re so attracted to someone (See: the-pheromone-myth-and-online-relationships.html). But I’m not here to defend "The Bachelor." It’s a twisted peek into the human psyche on both sides of this equation, participant and spectator, and some nights I felt a thin sheen of slime on my skin that no shower could remove. But even as I scoffed at its superficiality and complete manipulation by the producers, donning the most butter atop popcorn known to mankind, slapping on a pair of comfortable yoga pants, and inviting my girlfriends under my favorite throw, squished on the couch together, our ridiculous buns bobbing in laughter to the moments of sheer lunacy on the screen, I began to realize the show succeeds not because it may cater to the lowest common denominator in our society, but because it is a contest, a competition, like any other competition out there that people flock to see its champions and losers. Is it really so different than the Olympics? Football? The Greatest Chef? And the like? Make no mistake, it isn’t about love. Not one bit. Not usually. And anyone who wins “the prize” who watches back the utter gluttony and lies told by “the catch” (yes. I suppose a fishing competition is more akin to this than the basest of sports), is inevitably bound to taste the flavor of their own vomit. But what I’m really here to talk about is Bekah M, the Bekah who didn’t win, the Bekah…wait for it…who had short hair. GASP! Funnily enough, some of the major news outlets were “reporting” on this. And some proclaimed: “Are you serious? This is news? Short hair is news? In a time where there is gun violence and immigration debate and the most polarizing president in history at our helm, we’re talking about hair for god’s sake?” Everywhere on social media people were yammering: This is the first time in “Bachelor history” (for those of you who have ever watched the show, you’ll get the joke) that a woman with short hair has made it this far! It is a bit ludicrous, and I chuckle even as I write this, but it really DOES say something, doesn’t it? Hair seems to say something and always has. According to archaelogist, Elizabeth Bartman in Time magazine online: “Even despite the Ancient Greek ideal of a 'bearded, long-haired philosopher,' women in that society still had longer hair than men regularly did. Roman women kept their hair long and tended to part it down the center, and a man devoting too much attention to his hair 'risked scorn for appearing effeminate.' Further, the bible may have started its popularity in our western, Christian culture that quotes St. Paul: “Doth not nature itself teach you that if a man have long hair it is a shame unto him? But if a woman have long hair, it is a glory to her.” And more, many scholars believe it stemmed from the belief that hair and length was a direct correlation to someone’s health. “In order to have long hair you have to be healthy...You have to eat well, have no diseases, no infectious organisms, you have to have good rest and exercise.” Who doesn't want a woman like that? In an article from the University of Brighton, UK, on women of Victorian times, and we see it the literature I seem to love, “A woman’s long hair, after all, is the emblem of her femininity. More than that, it is a symbol of her sexuality, and the longer, thicker and more wanton the tresses, the more passionate the heart beneath them is assumed to be.” We are reminded of Lilith and Ruth, Ruth even transforming herself by having to have her luscious locks “castrated,” hair being such a powerful symbol of sexuality and wanton sexuality. Even today, as noted in an article in Psychology Today: “There’s an idea floating around that long hair on women is appealing to men—that mass of flowiness and texture supposedly trumpets femininity, adding to women’s appeal as the gentler sex.” But the article goes on to say that many men today are actually drawn to women with shorter hair, saying, “It seems more like a choice, like the woman is more self-determined.” And that this is appealing to the modern-day man. Is that true? I’ve never worn my hair short. As a lover of dance, I wasn’t really allowed that option, my early years in a very strict studio. I also don’t have Becah K’s face to don such an adorable look. It may be because my brother liked to tease me upon first exiting the shower, towel wrapped around my head. “What’s up Moon Face?” Regardless, it seems all this talk about “hair” and “that” Bachelor contestant is much deeper than it appeared. It’s really a study in all three of the great “ologies”—anthropology, sociology, and psychology, if one really begins to think on it, delve, question it. Just why short hair seemed to make ‘news’ makes a bit more sense now under this lens. And revisiting some of the Victorian literature while researching this topic a little bit, I realized that hair is always mentioned somehow. I used to think it imagery for writing sake, which it is of course, but really, it’s much more than that; it's a reflection of culture and even history of the female entity. It is has also made me think about my own writing and heroines. Personally, my hair is the one thing physically I have never complained about. I like my hair. There. I said it. I admit it. I was graced with good hair. And we females are critical enough about ourselves daily not to say so if we actually like something about ourselves. Why is that uncomfortable to do? Perhaps something to tackle in another post. But every single one of my heroines has luxurious, long hair. Some of my minor characters do not--Patricia, my favorite from Natalie’s Edge, sporting a bob, Olivia, the villain in Thorne, also sporting one, and Jennifer, Thorne’s lesbian, best friend dons short hair, and maybe my coolest character ever--but the heroines? No. Not yet.
So to Bekah M. Thank you. My next heroine just may have short hair! There is no question my next heroine will twirl off the pages with grace and sass, very much the way Bekah M did. I’m not sure what my hero (or usually anti-hero) will pull in the bedroom, but damn it, I just may dedicate my next novel to our short-haired vixen. And isn’t it funny? Even as I write this, it still feels slightly uncomfortable in my mind’s eye. We still have a long way to go, like almost everything else still fighting its way out of stereotypes, discrimination, and tradition. And so perhaps that is why a silly, mindless, let-me-shut-off-for-a-few-hours-and-not-think TV show made news about the girl with short hair…There’s much more there than what does, or doesn’t, reach the below the surface of a woman's neck. :) Tattoos were once thought of as marks of the troubled, the degenerate, the troubIe makers. Employers shunned those with tattoos and lies and myths about them were widespread and full of misconceptions, exaggerations, and lies even. Times have changed, like most things based on fiction and lack of knowledge or understanding. And tattoos are more common and accepted than ever, even consider works of art. I have one small tattoo that I got in college on a whim, and though not profound or "serious" in its outward appearance, I do love it. I got it at a time when I was truly discovering myself and my sexuality, where I could finally accept that calling myself a feminist and having submissive sexual tendencies didn't have to be opposing forces. Thank you, college, for that! I'm pondering getting one more, either on my shoulder or lower hip, right on the bone, or on the underside of a breast. Something also small. I'm not a fan of ostentatious tattoos. My body just isn't big enough for that, and it's just not something I find attractive, personally. Plus, I like skin. ;) I want it to be a quote, and I would have gotten one already, except that I'm not sure which one! Of course, Shakespeare comes to mind, and I've narrowed it down But lately, I've been pondering my own quote, one I penned myself. Is that too self-indulgent? I was thinking about "Ruin My Lipstick" to mark and forever remind me that I published my first poetry book, something I never thought I'd have the courage to do, but I'm not sure at 80, I'd be happy with that choice! And then again, why not? It's another turning point in my life, another mark of accomplishment, a growth, a reckoning. “Ruin My Lipstick” is the title poem of the collection, but it has layered meaning for me in many ways. Literally, there is this: “I liked to wear lipstick and nothing else and found myself fascinated with the shape of my lips and the different colors I could make them.” But it’s also very symbolic and figurative. We all have insecurities, and as I was compiling my poems to include, I realized the theme of facade runs through much of my work. In fact, most of my writing does, even my novels, those fronts we all put up in real life: who we are expected to be, which is sometimes in direct competition with WHO we really are. “Ruin My Lipstick,” therefore, is that idea. I look “put together.” Or I look proper. Or I look the part of whatever role I must play in the moment I am in it, but just under the surface, there is always this brimming sexuality or sensuality that is as much a part of me as breathing. And so secretly, I guess the idea of “ruin my lipstick,” puts those two ideas together as one, and allows me to be flawed, to accept those flaws, and to be loved because of them. In “Nude of Her Tights,” I talk about that symbolically and literally. Here’s a bit of it: Insecure. She lifts a leg, one at a time, rolls the nylon up over painted pointed toes, across straight knees, up higher over the spot charged with electricity because of him, and at last rests them around her waist with an elastic snap. She stands, exposed, but for the nude of her tights, and runs her fingers down her body one last time. The legs that were never long enough are suddenly just right. So frankly, perhaps I want this tattoo to be less frivolous, less rebellious really mean something to me, more of a reflection of the person I am now today, not the college student in the beginning of self discovery and rebellion, but the older version of myself that I am happy I am becoming, albeit, slowly.
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I LOVE to write and read. I particularly enjoy reading erotic romance that has tons of emotion in it. I hope you will ask me questions and share your favorite authors and novels. I welcome all feedback.
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