Victoria, I don’t like you
There was a Victoria’s Secret catalog in the mail yesterday. Yet again.
I told the Man, “Man, I don’t want to turn into an angry feminist but I have a problem with the media right now.”
And the catalog went in the recycle bin. Again. I didn’t even take out the “free thong” coupon. Or the $10 off coupon. Or any other coupon. I don’t like Victoria’s Secret.
I know her secret.
It’s lighting and makeup. And photoshop. And Plastic surgery. And. And. And.
It’s not just because I can’t wear a Victoria’s Secret bra anymore (I can’t) that I don’t like her (or whoever Victoria is, presumably a man in an office in a big city somewhere). And it’s not just because I weigh *ahem* more than I weighed a year ago at this time ( 30 pounds if you must know. I own it. It’s all mine.). It’s because women are being set up to fail by being given an ideal that is unreachable, a standard of beauty that is created by media. And it’s because my 10 and 12 year old sons are being told that those women are beautiful. It’s because my 15 year old daughter is being told that she has to weigh 100 pounds, be 5’9″ and have huge breasts to be beautiful. It’s because my sweet little baby is growing up in a world where this is what women are supposed to look like?
A world where breasts are plastic and to create a waistline you have to jut your hip out (please reference photo above). Where photoshop is king. And women are supposed to be shaped like Barbie. Where beauty is made up skin deep.
When I said to the Man that I didn’t like Victoria’s Secret he said, “The Victoria’s Secret catalog is sickening.” He said some other stuff I won’t say here but you get the idea. Even he doesn’t like it.
I want my kids to think this is beautiful:
And this is beautiful:
That birth is beautiful.
That breastfeeding is beautiful.
That gray hair, wrinkles, stretch marks are beautiful.
That youth is beautiful.
That age is beautiful.
That skinny, fat and everything in between is beautiful.
And normal? Well, normal is a setting on the washing machine. It’s subjective. Normal is what we all are. And normal is what you make it.
I challenge women everywhere today, throw the Victoria’s Secret catalog away (well recycle it anyway), toss out the Vanity Fair and Vogue, stop thinking about what you should look like and find something beautiful about how you do look. In fact, while you’re at it try to find it in something you think is a flaw. Stretchmarks? Did your body grow a baby? Wrinkles? Are they from laughing? Sagging breasts? Did they nourish a person? Wide hips? Did they carry a toddler on them? Do you have 10 pounds to lose? 30? 100? Or do you need to gain 10 pounds? 20? Or more? Can you love yourself NOW? Right now? Just the way you are made?
Beautifully and wonderfully.