I’m So Bored With Being Beautiful

It takes up all my time

March 23, 2024

Hello lovely readers, welcome to my weekly newsletter exploring, among other things, the traumas and blessings of getting older. The title and subtitle are from a song I wrote, or tried to, when I was 19 and getting way more male attention than I could handle. My intention, never fully realized, was to turn it into a punk song, a couple of Cars-ish verses and then I’d scream “BORED! BORED! BORED!” and maybe smash something.

I know it’s bad form to complain about what others see as a great advantage but for me it seemed like more of a burden. Like being smart. Deep down I wished I could drift under the radar and do whatever I wanted. BUT, I also wanted feedback and admiration so I could know if I was doing it (whatever it was) right. I thought every other pretty girl I met knew a secret I didn’t. What can I say, I was an unformed, shy, nerdy adolescent thrust onto the biggest stage I’d encountered at that point in my life (college!). I had no idea what to do and nobody I could trust to mentor me.

Me, aged 22 or 23. This is a scan of a 40-year-old photo. I didn’t filter it but did play with the setting so you could see my features. My lip gloss is Vaseline. Camera was an Olympus OA2 with a self-timer. I’m my own photographer.

I know prettiness/beauty is supposed to lend self confidence, but often it doesn’t work that way. You need to accept yourself first and that’s hard. You get accustomed to being told you look good but when that affirmation doesn’t come regularly you start to wonder what’s wrong, what am I doing wrong, does that person still like me if he’s not gushing over my appearance each time he sees me? (I know this is twisted but I’m being true to the imperfect young me). I felt like there were two of me in every situation, the real me and and the beautiful embodiment of me and they didn’t have anything in common besides sharing a name. I’m not saying this is the worst thing ever, but it can be very confusing. It was especially confusing for me because I’d been raised in the the tradition of “Pretty is as pretty does,” “Beauty is in the eye of beholder,” and the general WASPy preference for neatness and politeness over personality.

Trump and the MAGA people complain “You can’t tell a woman she’s beautiful anymore,” but why the fuck do you think you should be able to? Men say that to women as a way to put you in their debt immediately. He thinks I’m beautiful, I am blessed among women, here’s my phone number. That gets old fast. I suppose the underlying idea is that female beauty is impossible (for men) to resist and woman’s attractiveness is fair game. But it’s nobody’s job to look good alllll the time for everyone. Except maybe if it’s your job. 

But should it be? I’m thinking right now about Catherine Middleton, the Princess of Wales, and actress Sydney Sweeney, both of whom have been the subject of much social media attention lately (in the 21st century, all media is social media) and to what purpose? The pretty pretty princess had to make a video confessing she has cancer. You could say (and many have) that she’s a rich, privileged, tax-supported figurehead who owes everybody everything they want,¹ but she is also a mother of young children, facing a life-changing situation. She’s only 42. And the royal family doesn’t have such a great history dealing with problematic Princesses. Most of the comments I read online malign her comms people, but who really knows how to quell a tsunami of social media commentary? Tree Paine, maybe. Kensington Palace never had a chance.

With Sydney Sweeney, it’s different, since she’s only Hollywood royalty and, as far as I know, has not recently been diagnosed with anything fatal. But she was recently the alleged topic of a newspaper column entitled “Wokeness is no match for Sydney Sweeney’s natural beauty” to which I respond WHAT? WTF? I don’t want to read the whole thing so I will just present you with the subtitle and first line 

We've been pressured into pretending everyone is beautiful, except for those who actually are

Are Sydney Sweeney’s breasts double-D harbingers of the death of woke?

²

I honestly have no idea how to parse this, I think it’s just a way of preferring a certain type of beauty (white, blonde, blue-eyed, slender, big boobs) and trying to make it the only acceptable standard. More than anything else, it speaks volumes politically and socially about the writers themselves. It doesn’t have anything to do with Sydney as a person and fortunately she seems to know this. She's got a good head on her shoulders for 26.

We’re not getting anymore from the Princess of Wales about her feelings, I’m sure, but kudos to Sydney for stating her truth (not to be confused with a post on Truth Social). Keep it up, girl! Also, you are allowed to show off your cleavage. There’s very little in the world more beautiful than a young woman’s decolletage, in my opinion. 

I don’t believe in beauty standards, except maybe for my own. I want to see the beauty in everyone. I look at the picture of myself from around age 23 (above) and I think I look good, but I also don’t know my angles and my brows are not done to 21st century standards.. Can “beauty” really be determined by a photograph? It’s just an image after all. It’s all so fraught. At times, I’m still entangled in a belief that beauty is virtue, that not everyone can have it, it’s a rare commodity and if you meet those standards you are very special. I try not to think about it, because I will start wondering if I really qualify. But, also, how is it that my individual self-confidence would be assessed and determined by the gaze of others? Is that not fucked up? It’s fucked up.

It’s also the way of the world. At that age, I sought out people whom I thought liked me for myself, though in retrospect I don’t know how well I did. Nobody is just their appearance, their pleasant small talk, their friend circle or their industry connections.³

At my current age, it’s something of a relief to not have to worry about this any more. I’m still kind of pretty, but I don’t have to put up with constant ogling and interruptions. I know I’m fortunate to look younger than I do, but I feel more fortunate not to have cancer or another debilitating physical condition. I feel confident that the fading of my good looks doesn’t mean I myself will fade away. I wear glasses all the time, no makeup (should probably look into concealer more), don’t do my hair (but I do appreciate the ease of a good haircut). I’d rather play with my looks than try to look my best.

Today is a gray, rainy, disgusting day, the first Saturday of Spring. I didn’t want to write this, but here I am, almost done, ready to click Publish. Share your thoughts, comment, share, subscribe, click the little heart, give me the feedback I somehow still crave.

1. Including the secret to her slender figure and glossy hair.

2. Link is to this truly gross X/Twitter post from a terrible person https://twitter.com/RichardHanania/status/1764348035432374659

3. I wasn’t very good at taking advantage of any of these btw.