Botox is for feminists

If your face is cracking and there is a way to stop it from cracking, why would you continue to let it crack?  That is the millennial equivalent of the if-a-tree-falls-in-the-forest question.  With plastic surgery being as ubiquitous as fashion people using the word ‘everything,’ I am surprised by my waffling opinion.  Some days I’m down with it.  Bring on the Botox!  Fire up the Fraxel Laser!  Other days I am flying the flag of feminism while angrily deriding all who seek to marginalize women with their limited, fantasy-based pablum.

Bring on the Botox!  Fire up the Fraxel Laser!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In 2011, women underwent 8.4 million cosmetic procedures.  We spent 10 billion smoothing out wrinkles, pumping up breasts and sucking out fat.  See, everybody’s doing it.  However, as a feminist who was raised by a feminist who was raised by a feminist who didn’t even know she was a feminist, I understand that the pressure on women to be beautiful and remain young at all costs is a tool of misogyny.  However, knowing this gives me no comfort.  I don’t want my nurtured need to fight the power to have me looking like the Crypt Keeper.

Men are never pressured to believe that their worth is for a large part determined by their beauty.  In 2011, only 9% of cosmetic surgery patients were men.  If a man is not beautiful, hey that’s ok.  Just make enough money or be really good in bed or be able to fix stuff.  Some woman will want you, dawg.  If he can make a lot of money, the world is his oyster and nothing else matters.

Sure, she may have conquered global media, educated the kids and made a billion while doing it. But have you seen her without makeup?

Although less than model beautiful woman can and do rise in stature and esteem through their business accomplishments, the public will still try to compartmentalize and diminish.  Remember all the Oprah bullshit?  Sure, she may have conquered global media, educated the kids and made a billion while doing it. But have you seen her without makeup?  She needs to lose weight.  Oh and Stedman doesn’t want to marry her.

And still I waffle.

And still I waffle.  I see the beginnings of fine lines on my forehead.  Is it so wrong that I want to Botox the shit out of ‘em before they become deep furrows?  I have a pleasant face.  I don’t wanna a perma-scowl.  I can say now that I would never get a facelift with my skin currently tight and its right place.  Would I say the same thing if my chin and neck were sitting on my chest?

The thing is that our youth and beauty obsessed culture isn’t changing any time soon.  I can protest against the misogyny for a month of Sundays, but will that change the fact that the visible signs of aging are the death knell?  As a woman ages, she is paid less attention.  You begin to not count, to be less important than, less valuable than.  Who would knowingly sign on for that just to prove a point no matter how valid?

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