So Vain

A while ago I asked my friends if they would consider altering their appearances to look better, even if it meant that the procedure to do so could be costly or dangerous.  The funny thing is that most of the women answered that they would, and all of the men replied that they would never have cosmetic surgery.  Women are generally not more conceited than men are, so why would we risk potential harm in order to look better?

The answer is pretty simple.  In our society, women are supposed to look young and pretty.  We are supposed to be thin but curvy and have perfect skin and hair.  No man would want an old, fat, wrinkly woman, right?  Sure, we want to be attractive and feminine and look our best so that men will pay attention.  Really though, it is not even about the men.  It is about the other women. 

Women are so incredibly judgmental of other women.  Sure, we can try to blame the media for forcing impossible standards of beauty upon us.  Yes, we can blame men for wanting what they see on television instead of the beautiful women they are actually lucky enough to be with.  But women are the ones who make women feel bad about themselves. 

Women constantly compare themselves to one another.  I’m not as big as she is.  I wish my breasts could be that nice.  Her butt is too flat.  I can see her cellulite.  She is too skinny.  Her hair is bad.  She dresses like a slut.  She dresses like a slob.  It goes on and on.  And women are aware that other women are doing this to them. 

The reason women care so much about how other women look is because we are all at least a little bit insecure.  Many of us are much more than a just a little insecure.  No one is perfect, and the ones who look perfect have issues just like everyone else does. 

It is not about being catty or vain, it's about how we feel about ourselves. 

If we could just decide to find the beauty in everyone we meet we would all be a lot less ugly. 

Bad Words

Today, when I was at the grocery store with my daughter I heard something that broke my heart.  A little girl of about eight years old was riding in her mother’s cart and when they walked past I heard her say, “I’m a pain in the ass” in a very monotone voice.  At once, I felt saddened, because the little girl stated this as if she’d said it a million times and it was simply a matter of fact because someone told her so.  I looked up at her mother.  To most people, she would have just looked angry and sick of her child.  To me, she looked like she just could not take it anymore.

The little girl looked completely “normal” but right away I recognized that she must have autism or something similar.  Now, most people would assume that her mother must be a horrible excuse for a parent and a terrible caregiver and a million other dreadful accusations.  I saw someone who needs a break and some kindness. 

After all, I have been a mother for twelve years, and in twelve years I have said more than a few things that I did not mean.  I have sworn in front of my children, even though I said I never would.  I have yelled angrily in their presence.  I have lost my temper.  Luckily for me, they just never repeat any of it catatonically in public. 

So, who am I to judge another parent who has had one of those days when the world is just not working right, or when she just cannot get through to her child?  I have no idea what her life is like. 

And while I felt sorry for her child for hearing those words, I also felt sorry that her mother was feeling bad enough to say them. 

Bad words hurt, but they hurt some of us more than others. 

What Peace

The terrorist is dead.  For some, this seems to be a reason for celebration, an eye for thousands of eyes.  Justice.  This is closure for the families who lost their loved ones. 

When the towers came down, I cried.  At the time, I knew no one there, no one on any of those planes, or in any of those buildings, and I knew none of their families or friends.  I cried for the loss of the innocent.  I cried because none of the victims deserved to die.   I cried for the human capacity of depravity and hatred.  That people could be so filled with hate, so full of anger toward fellow human beings who meant them no harm; the very idea makes me ill to this day. 

Our military personnel risked their lives to deliver justice to the American people and their bravery is absolutely commendable.  Thousands of families were left weeping as their loved ones have been shipped overseas for years to protect our freedom.  So many lives have been destroyed for the greater good. 

Yet now, when one monster who orchestrated the massacre is brought down, some people deem this a cause for rejoicing. 

All I feel is sadness and fear. 

I am saddened that many Americans are using a terrorist’s death as a reason to argue and carry forth more hatred toward one another because it did not happen fast enough or under the right leadership or whatever it is that can possibly be argued here.  I am sad that some are sharing their wishes that they had “burned him alive” or “cut him to pieces first”.  Some even want to see the execution themselves, either as further proof that it truly happened or as some sick way to see one more act of violence. 

I am fearful because more violence and hate will come from retaliation.  It will happen, and more innocent lives will be lost.  I am fearful that it will never end. 

Violence and hate are bred by violence and hate. 

I understand the need for redemption and justice.  Unfortunately, I found out at a young age what it feels like to have someone I love hurt and almost killed at the hands of an unseen enemy.  I understand the feelings of needed revenge because I have felt them myself.  But I cannot bring myself to condone further expressions of violence. 

What good will it bring?  What lives will we save by continuing hatred?  What peace can we experience if all we shout are cries for violence? 

What peace?