Some days I despair of ever being normal. But what is normal, really? Normal for me is not normal for others. But is normal for others normal for all? Is there such a thing? I’m starting to think that normality is a myth. I should rejoice in what is my normal and not worry about whether or not it meets up to society’s definition of normal.
Are society’s accepted norms really realistic anyway? Look at what society considers beautiful. Stick-thin, anemic-looking models are the unhealthy aspiration of many a little girl. But why? That is not normal and that should not be the goal for which every woman strives. Trust me. I’ve been unhealthily thin and still would have been told to lose a little bit of weight by a top modeling agency. I’m serious. Those woman are put through hell. Their self-worth is continually challenged. They are told by one client that their hips are too big, by another that they need to lose a little weight so that their cheekbones are better defined. They are taught that they never live up to the standards set by others. They develop body image issues on a scale that most of us will never even begin to comprehend.
Why does a woman’s stomach have to be flat? How is a woman expected to be as thin as a rail and still somehow have curves? Why are implants required to be desirable? Why should lips be fuller, eyes rounder, teeth whiter?
Who decided that this is good? Who decided that this is the standard to which all others should hold themselves? Who decided that this is normal?
Perhaps “they” should be taken out of the equation and replaced with “we.” For “we” are far kinder and more fair than “they.” Even better, we should replace “they” with “I.” Because we really shouldn’t care what anyone else thinks anyway.
Hmm… somehow, what I had intended to be a post about my current state of mental and physical well-being turned into a reflection of my own continuing struggle with body image issues. Isn’t that interesting?