Everyone has probably read about some of our influential people, in this way powerful women who mourn their lost beauty, and that men no longer regard them with the same blazing zeal as before.
I'm worried about this. It's a shame they've aired it openly. One thing is well to discuss the demand for female beauty and the bizarre in that women ” does not count ” och ” not visible ” (if they do not capture men's immediate sexual interest, nor do female get reactions to her appearance) as they get older – that women who already have difficulty asserting themselves because of their gender, after a certain age is considered to be even more difficult to be considered a person with pondus. It can be analyzed and reflected on and also questioned the substance in, but that yourself, as an influential woman publicly complaining that one has aged and is not doing as well in the picture, or can use their pleasures to secure space, är…. sad.
These are women that others admire. Women that women admire. Women as young women, as well as older women admire. Something falls flat to the ground. It's getting pretty crappy.
Dock. Vanity is not a negative trait. It is something man brings with him, one of her colors on the palette that is human creation – and joy in living and wanting to celebrate the beautiful and beautiful that life is. We should be grateful for the vanity. (It means that we take care of our hygiene, inte minst. ) You should not be ashamed of your vanity or your longing for beauty. It is found in all cultures and times, but to let oneself be chained by ” the male gaze” – or perhaps rather our culture's commercial view of our personal revelation in the world, is what everyone knows, painful, tragic, hopeless, a waste of energy and well-being. Many have been surprised by the lamentation of these influential women. Many have been disappointed, really disappointed with this bare, sad lack of self-confidence and self-esteem.
Men age too. They also have a harder time aging beautifully, if we are going to nag about it. But as we know, women are attracted to men because of their power, their influence, their potential talent, so it should not be a problem purely in terms of confirmation that they mostly become incredibly less beautiful as older than as young. Detta, to continue to be considered sexually acceptable and to continue to be able to make a smashing impression to manipulate, is thus only a problem for women.
But why openly keep up with this and ”admit ” his pain – as a woman – over not being able to use their appearance as before , for confirmation, for opportunities? Then I perceive this public pain as an acceptance of the shit order and that you yourself have de facto contributed, with satisfaction, to carry it up. I think that women in general and not least young and growing women would rather see these influential people, powerful women age – with dignity. With a stable sense of self-respect. There is always beauty in it. Alltid.
Its sad. In addition, they can fix themselves if it considers it so crucial. It makes people completely open, post on social media and praise for it. )Now that everyone knows that they want to be a little prettier, they can do it without people raising their eyebrows – on the contrary, they may receive tributes!)
I wrote the TV series GLAPPET a long time ago. It is partly about these issues and what this does to us. I had been thinking about it for a very long time. For my part, I felt trapped in the package everyone else saw, my exterior, since I was in my teens. The starting shot for GLAPPET occurred when I was 16 years and went to high school on Lidingö. I always had, since childhood, been a brooding girl, very reflective and no one goes in herd. One day I wrote an article to the school newspaper that the well-to-do schoolmates had not been able to get to school when it was a theme day about alcoholism. Only a handful of students were there. It provoked me, my schoolmates' lack of interest and indifference to the world outside the safe island. The principal and other adults thanked me. My schoolmates, who only saw the package of me and had an idea of who I was because I was cute, blonde and attractive, came up to me and said things like ” is it really you who wrote it? Is not your brother?” och ” I NEVER thought you were really thinking!”
It shocked me. Deep. So I lived in a huge gap between who I was and who I was interpreted to be only based on my ” skönhet ” . Min ” skönhet ” also made it tricky with all the relationships with other girls, except my best friends. I was exposed to quite a lot of shit just because I was so called ” vacker ”, both from other girls, curious guys and horny teachers. I have encountered a lot of disloyalty among girls, what is classified as ”envy ” one in some years ( high school, teens mainly maybe) blind aggression that is not to be played with. And that in the company of girls is often forced to be aware that I was considered beautiful and therefore could not be myself, but must quickly signal some humility in order not to be viewed negatively, lasted until I was about 30 years and became a mother. After that, it was no longer as tricky with women's relationships, for which I was extremely grateful! But after I divorced and became a single woman, the problems arose again and I was perceived as a threat- though I have far from been a threat to any other woman. Ja, sure, beauty gives a lot of plus, också- a lot of pluses that I probably do not even reflect on, because I have not experienced anything else. Men…jag vet inte, not being a projection surface for others' prejudices may also be quite positive.
For how wonderful it is not to be able to move anywhere as a free and invisible human being without attracting men's attention and women's resistance? Not being able to have a cup of tea in a café, do not sit on a train alone, not being able to go to the movies alone, not being able to walk through a room without being forced to become aware of all men's gazes, or on sidewalks and into shops? To constantly think about what you are wearing so as not to further signal something that you are not looking for, while others may have tank tops and shorts and sleek dresses, without anyone , neither woman nor man, comment on it? And having to deal with jealous partners who think you are who you are because you constantly REQUIRE confirmation from the opposite sex, though the only thing one is is to be normally nice, if even that? Eller… as said, just walked through a room in a red dress. It's not fun to worry about your partner, as other men's eyes glide over one.
Why it's all about us and what we do and are? Men then – and their ideas about us?
I do not suffer from losing my beauty, not very much. I think it's great to be able to walk around the world without feeling like I'm there to decorate it or evoke the dreams of passers-by. I think it's great to avoid being pulled in by all sorts of men who want to entice me to admire them so that they can get me to bed. Now I could even go out and dance myself probably without having to tell the doorman to stop anyone trying to get out at the same time as me, so that no one will be able to follow me; as it has been only a few years ago. Is it something fun? Inte. Ack, inte!
And why is it not enough that the man / partners you have by your side think you are beautiful? I do not understand, but I, on the other hand, have been spoiled at this point.
Of course, it's sad to see how the face collapses and strange lines appear. But it's fascinating at the same time! That's life! All ages are on the face!
But with that said, I do not want to hide under a chair because I am, of course, vain. I do not think anyone wants an ugly and unfavorable image of one to be printed in the newspaper. Everyone wants to be nice in the picture. I can also undo small howls when I see how I change. And I can see my aged mother in me. It is a sign that everything is right , on the other hand. The families come and go!
The rhythm of life is beautiful. We can like that about everything and everyone else. The rhythm of the trees. And always the adorable baby animals and the adorable buds and the sheer hopeful light of spring!
Om och om igen, they come. The adorable kids, the beautiful beautiful young animals. Så är det bara. We are part of this. And strong, influential women get lines, hakor, rubbery bodies and veined hands. But why not be just as proud of it? We carry everything within us.
It's a sick one, to always look at ourselves from the outside. That way, no one will ever be satisfied. That disease is taking more and more hold , it seems. It's something very sad, very sad – and plot -about it. It makes no one happy.
