There's one thing that always perplexes me about men and women, more than all the dwindling Mars vs Venus mysteries.
My husband and I are getting ready to go to the mall, mostly for grocery shopping and weekend-scheduled play-time for my daughter Saanvi. We're sipping our coffee at luxury, watching Impractical Jokers, when he suddenly looks at his watch and goes, "Shouldn't you be getting dressed? We gotta leave in an hour." So I, like a dutiful wife, who needs her doll-up routine as much as that doze of caffeine and evil-witch laughter, exit from the scene while he continues to sit there, until it's just five minutes left to go. And when he comes to the room to check up on me, I am at the stage which, for me, is the most time-consuming - deciding if I need to tie up my hair in a ponytail or let it down, debating if I need that extra coat of mascara or eyeliner to make my eyes look even, holding the blow dryer barrel to my head to add volume to my bangs that are crying out for mercy...
He'll then, based on my look, from knowing how to read between the lines on my face for much too long, give me one of the following responses:
1. Baby, the question is do you FEEL ok? Cos I don't want you fidgeting about. (Pff...like anybody gives a hoot about feelings right now.)
2. What do you mean do you look ok? You look great! Furreal.
3. Wait a minute. Who cares? We're going grocery-shopping!
4. Do you really want to go dressed like that? To a mall! (In our case, it usually means that I've gone over-the-top.
And it doesn't matter what he says. I'd still turn to the mirror and continue fixing something. I'd still take a trip down the memory lane to remember what I said to my Business Communications teacher when she asked me what physical feature I find most striking in myself. I'd still ferret my reflection for that one thing that can make me effortlessly pretty, which is getting harder and harder as time goes by.
I'd still give a damn about my appearance. About clicking flawless pictures. About looking cool and sexy and accomplished and elegant and poised and well-dressed.
Of course, it may be tied in a tight rope of feelings to many things that I'm feeling but it's getting exhausting.
Small disclaimer here: I am not saying that men are not obsessed about their physical appearance, well, unless they have an important day coming up. That stereotype is as tiring and yawn-inducing as the one about women being fucked-up drivers. I know of some men who spend an inordinate time fixing themselves before stepping out. And I know of some women who'd step out in dirty sweats and messy buns without a care in the world..
But there's something more deep-rooted about body-image anxiety that comes to women, not just from movies, air-brushed media ideals or beauty magazines.
It comes from the kind of conversations, you as grown-ups, have with a little girl as she is growing.
That is something I realized after paying close attention to what I and other people say to my daughter as a way of making conversation with her.
"Hello... little princess! I love your polka headband. Did you pick it yourself?"
"OMG she's so cute in her tutu! Like a dream! You should totally make her learn ballet."
"Where's my lil angel off to today with her pretty pink glass slippers?"
"OMG...her hair! You gorgeous thing! God, please give me your hair, Saanvi!"
" Saanvi let's play dress-up. You can be Elsa in a ruffled gown! Oh you can so be a model."
"If you don't eat greens, how will you have long beautiful hair like your big sister?" (OK, I confess to that. It was an experiment to see if that'd get her to eat spinach. Na...didn't work.)
I get it. Maybe it's a cultural thing. Women, I know, have to exchange compliments as a bonding ritual. So it's only natural that we apply the same rule to our little girls. Now up until this point, my daughter hadn't gotten to discover or appreciate what she looks like, except just in dressed-down adjectives such as chubby, brown, tall, or if there's something funny in her appearance, like a milk moustache or a wobbly lock of hair. You can congratulate me on my evil plan to keep her away from Disney princesses - well, I could only go this far with that one.
But the alarming frequency with which people have been dishing her the darn-cute routine became evident to me when one day, she walked up to a family at a restaurant to say Hi and when they responded brightly, she said, "I know what you're going to say next. That I'm cute." She wasn't being an arrogant prick. She was being honest 'cos that was how most people spoke to her. And unfortunately, that was all that some people spoke to her about.
Why should we hold back our instinctive "Awws" and "So cutes" to little girls, you'd wonder? As far as grandma myths go, haven't we been told never to bite backback heart- compliments as they'd contribute to the evil eye? And ain't it a bit far-fetched and paranoid to say that it could lead to future body anxiety? Those were my initial thoughts when I read this thought-provoking article.
As Lisa Bloom observes that when we talk to little girls mostly about their clothes and bodies and hair, we send them a wrong message. We tell them that being pretty and wearing a pretty dress is more important than anything else in the world. We tell them their looks are a big part of their worth. We tell them that it doesn't matter what book they're reading or what ideas they have for world domination or how much they love dogs, in our eyes, they'll always have to be pretty princesses in pink.
So, the next time you meet that sparkly, curly-locked, twinkle-eyed girl at a birthday party, save the sticky compliments. Instead engage her in a conversation. Ask her what she's reading. Discuss her favourite characters. Ask her what is her favourite animal. Give her clues to a puzzle to solve. What superpower does she want? What is her favourite dessert? Has she seen snow? Has she been to a beach?
You'd be surprised how much she'd recollect that conversation.
Do you agree with the above theory? As a little girl, do you have any memorable conversations with adults that did not revolve around your looks or your dress?
My husband and I are getting ready to go to the mall, mostly for grocery shopping and weekend-scheduled play-time for my daughter Saanvi. We're sipping our coffee at luxury, watching Impractical Jokers, when he suddenly looks at his watch and goes, "Shouldn't you be getting dressed? We gotta leave in an hour." So I, like a dutiful wife, who needs her doll-up routine as much as that doze of caffeine and evil-witch laughter, exit from the scene while he continues to sit there, until it's just five minutes left to go. And when he comes to the room to check up on me, I am at the stage which, for me, is the most time-consuming - deciding if I need to tie up my hair in a ponytail or let it down, debating if I need that extra coat of mascara or eyeliner to make my eyes look even, holding the blow dryer barrel to my head to add volume to my bangs that are crying out for mercy...
And in the desperation of the moment, of wondering if I should be taking this face for a spin after all or hide it under covers, I'll turn to him with a pleading-pup expression to ask him, "Does this look OK?"
He'll then, based on my look, from knowing how to read between the lines on my face for much too long, give me one of the following responses:
1. Baby, the question is do you FEEL ok? Cos I don't want you fidgeting about. (Pff...like anybody gives a hoot about feelings right now.)
2. What do you mean do you look ok? You look great! Furreal.
3. Wait a minute. Who cares? We're going grocery-shopping!
4. Do you really want to go dressed like that? To a mall! (In our case, it usually means that I've gone over-the-top.
And it doesn't matter what he says. I'd still turn to the mirror and continue fixing something. I'd still take a trip down the memory lane to remember what I said to my Business Communications teacher when she asked me what physical feature I find most striking in myself. I'd still ferret my reflection for that one thing that can make me effortlessly pretty, which is getting harder and harder as time goes by.
I'd still give a damn about my appearance. About clicking flawless pictures. About looking cool and sexy and accomplished and elegant and poised and well-dressed.
Of course, it may be tied in a tight rope of feelings to many things that I'm feeling but it's getting exhausting.
Small disclaimer here: I am not saying that men are not obsessed about their physical appearance, well, unless they have an important day coming up. That stereotype is as tiring and yawn-inducing as the one about women being fucked-up drivers. I know of some men who spend an inordinate time fixing themselves before stepping out. And I know of some women who'd step out in dirty sweats and messy buns without a care in the world..
But there's something more deep-rooted about body-image anxiety that comes to women, not just from movies, air-brushed media ideals or beauty magazines.
It comes from the kind of conversations, you as grown-ups, have with a little girl as she is growing.
That is something I realized after paying close attention to what I and other people say to my daughter as a way of making conversation with her.
"Hello... little princess! I love your polka headband. Did you pick it yourself?"
"OMG she's so cute in her tutu! Like a dream! You should totally make her learn ballet."
"Where's my lil angel off to today with her pretty pink glass slippers?"
"OMG...her hair! You gorgeous thing! God, please give me your hair, Saanvi!"
" Saanvi let's play dress-up. You can be Elsa in a ruffled gown! Oh you can so be a model."
"If you don't eat greens, how will you have long beautiful hair like your big sister?" (OK, I confess to that. It was an experiment to see if that'd get her to eat spinach. Na...didn't work.)
I get it. Maybe it's a cultural thing. Women, I know, have to exchange compliments as a bonding ritual. So it's only natural that we apply the same rule to our little girls. Now up until this point, my daughter hadn't gotten to discover or appreciate what she looks like, except just in dressed-down adjectives such as chubby, brown, tall, or if there's something funny in her appearance, like a milk moustache or a wobbly lock of hair. You can congratulate me on my evil plan to keep her away from Disney princesses - well, I could only go this far with that one.
But the alarming frequency with which people have been dishing her the darn-cute routine became evident to me when one day, she walked up to a family at a restaurant to say Hi and when they responded brightly, she said, "I know what you're going to say next. That I'm cute." She wasn't being an arrogant prick. She was being honest 'cos that was how most people spoke to her. And unfortunately, that was all that some people spoke to her about.
Why should we hold back our instinctive "Awws" and "So cutes" to little girls, you'd wonder? As far as grandma myths go, haven't we been told never to bite backback heart- compliments as they'd contribute to the evil eye? And ain't it a bit far-fetched and paranoid to say that it could lead to future body anxiety? Those were my initial thoughts when I read this thought-provoking article.
As Lisa Bloom observes that when we talk to little girls mostly about their clothes and bodies and hair, we send them a wrong message. We tell them that being pretty and wearing a pretty dress is more important than anything else in the world. We tell them their looks are a big part of their worth. We tell them that it doesn't matter what book they're reading or what ideas they have for world domination or how much they love dogs, in our eyes, they'll always have to be pretty princesses in pink.
So, the next time you meet that sparkly, curly-locked, twinkle-eyed girl at a birthday party, save the sticky compliments. Instead engage her in a conversation. Ask her what she's reading. Discuss her favourite characters. Ask her what is her favourite animal. Give her clues to a puzzle to solve. What superpower does she want? What is her favourite dessert? Has she seen snow? Has she been to a beach?
You'd be surprised how much she'd recollect that conversation.
Do you agree with the above theory? As a little girl, do you have any memorable conversations with adults that did not revolve around your looks or your dress?
I certainly agree to some points that you have discussed on this post. I appreciate that you have shared some reliable tips on this review.
ReplyDeleteThank you :). I'm glad you could relate.
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