Warning: The following may (read: will almost definitely) be a bit rambly.
You don’t know how hard it is, being a woman. How will I ever live up to your expectations of pretty?
I have been devouring In This Moment lately. Particularly the Black Widow album. It is gold. Everything I need right at this moment in my life, and that is essential. It is important to have the proper soundtrack for your life… or… for where you want your life to be.
I also have noticed, over my 32 years on earth, that when men (or anyone really) want to get a point across to a woman, they tend to go for their pretty.
I promise these points are related.
You’re so pretty, we should hang out sometime
I didn’t want to date you anyway, you fat, ugly slob!
You should feel lucky that someone like me would pay attention to an ugly bitch like you
You’d be pretty if you lost weight
you’re pretty, I bet he’ll give you that promotion
she only got that promotion because she’s hot
He’s with her now?? She’s so much uglier than you!
Why is it that the first line of attack is always against our “pretty”? Not pretty enough, thin enough, thick enough, tall enough, short enough, tan enough, pale enough… no matter who we are or what we look like, any time we, as women, do something that creates even the smallest wave, we can be sure the first words to be said will be about our appearance. Followed directly by how slutty we are (even if we are celibate).
Why is this the go to?
Are we, as women, so vain that this is really the hardest hitting weaponry that (mostly) men have in their arsenal? Do they attack our pretty because that is the surest way to destroy us?
Or could it be that they are so intent on making us that vain? That they want us ladies to be so insipid that we are torn down so easily by a simple comment on our looks?
They decry our vanity by making jokes about how long we take to get ready and how much makeup we use, while at the same time trying to butter us up by lavishing us with compliments on our pretty – but only as long as we do as they want, or they will turn around and tear down those very looks they were just a moment ago writing sonnets to.
We do it to each other as much as men do it to us, calling each other pretty to their faces, and tearing them apart behind their backs, or even tearing each other down face to face as if it is survival of the prettiest? Pettiest?
As for me, I’d be far more hurt by someone attacking my character… or, you know, something I consider legitimately important.
*I won’t close my eyes, like you want me to
I am wild and free, I am untamable…
I’m more than you’ll ever see
More than just your dirty pretty*