I have nothing but partially gestated thoughts and meaningless ramblings today, but if I don’t post right now, it’s not happening until next week, so this is what you’re getting:
Last night I was telling Jason about a conversation I had earlier in the day with a friend about her boob job.
Me: … so the point is, maybe if I had bigger boobs I wouldn’t worry so much about my muffin top, you know?
Me: Do you think I should get a boob job?
Jason: … I mean… I guess we could discuss it…
Me: WHAT?! You’re unhappy with my boobs? I thought you liked my boobs! And I always thought you were more of a leg man. You’re saying you’re into fake boobs?!
Jason: None of those were words that just came out of my mouth.
I’m going on a weekend girls trip up North to a cabin Pinetop. We’re leaving tomorrow morning.
The Rules of Pinetop Girls Weekend
First Rule: You do not talk about Pinetop Girls Weekend.
Second Rule: You DO NOT talk about Pinetop Girls Weekend.
Third Rule: No men or children allowed.
Fourth Rule: Do not drink so much Night 1 that you are unable to enjoy Day 2-3.
Fifth Rule: Calories don’t count.
Sixth Rule: Permanent body art application is inadvisable, but not out of the question.
Seventh Rule: Do not bring shame upon your family with your behavior.
Eighth Rule: Just kidding about the seventh rule; there’s no judgement at Pinetop Girls Weekend.
I took an Intro to Pointe informational class this week at the Ballet studio I go to. The teacher went over the basics of the parts of the shoe and how to be an old lady when buying pointe shoes at the ballet store. (The key is not giving a shit that people will look at you funny and ask you if they’re for your daughter.)
She also examined the anatomy of each of our feet and talked to us about things we would have to do to accommodate our individual needs. Like people with long toes need a shoe with a longer vamp (front portion), dancers with high arches don’t need to break in the shank (inner part) as much, and people with a longer second toe than first are more awesome than everyone else (or maybe she said we need to tape it so it doesn’t buckle).
It made me think of an article I read a few days earlier that was about how ‘pretty’ is a skill set. The article discussed the fact that no one over the age of 19 looks fresh and beautiful with no makeup. Even skin tones, big eyes, long lashes, accented cheek bones, smooth hair, small waists, propped up chests, are all things society deems aesthetically appealing and we work towards achieving them with products and the right fit of our clothes. It’s something you can be good at, rather than merely something you’re born with or not. We’re all born with different palettes to start from, but it’s really about what we do with what we’ve got.
This is apparently true of ballerinas, too. I’ve always sort of believed amazing dancers are born flawless. Like they spring from the loins of Terpsichore* fully grown with 0.3% body fat and the ability to levitate. I found it comforting to learn there were tricks to dealing with individual body types in ballet. Some ballerinas even have wide feet!
The point is, I think most of us, to some degree, lament our unworthiness because we weren’t born stunningly beautiful and talented. It’s nice to remember that ‘pretty’ (even in the dancer sense) is just something people work at being good at.
So I guess I’m gonna try harder not to hate myself so much for looking shitty without makeup… is what I’m saying. And you should too. Because even if you’re really good at being pretty, is it something to be more proud of than being good at painting, or writing, or swimming, or quilting or teaching? I kind of think it’s not. So I should probably put more time and effort into things I’d be super proud to be good at. Right? Right.
*She’s the greek goddess of music and dance. Because this website is about learning. You’re welcome.