I remember the first time I saw an episode of Leave it to Beaver. My immediate thought was, “No wonder my mom was depressed. If she thought this was what her life was supposed to be, and we weren’t anything close, she must have felt like a failure.” The perfect house with the perfect spouse and children, everyone dressed well, pearls and all, even while housecleaning…yeah, no. I have some vintage cooking pamphlets from my mother’s collection that I proudly displayed on my kitchen walls. Some of my favorite titles include, “Dishes Men Like” followed up by “Desserts Men Life” or “Lazy Ways for Lazy Days” with a photo of a perfect couple, eating their perfect meal, on their perfect patio. Everything is color coordinated, from the furniture to their outfits, and even her perfect blonde updo, not a hair out of place. These are the images that bombarded my childhood and I too felt like a total failure for never being able to meet their expectations.
Since I couldn’t look like the girls in the magazines, I did my best to decorate my bedroom. I hung on my closet door a poster of Shaun Cassidy. I wasn’t allowed to hang anything on my walls, the fear of a tape marks and nail holes ran deep in my family. I had a little stereo to play his albums on along with ones from Andy Gibb, Tony Orland and Dawn and a handful of K-Tel albums, you know, the copulation albums of the current hit songs I listened to on WLS Radio. I wasn’t a total nerd, I did have Barry Manilow too’ Oh wait, yes, I was a total nerd, but I loved the songs he wrote that made the whole world sing! I would perform in front of my bedroom dresser mirror, in my sunshine yellow room, hairbrush in hand as a makeshift microphone and sing my little heart out, dreaming of the day I might look like the girl one of my heartthrobs would notice, pick out of the crowd and serenade. Oh bother, I was never the girl that anyone noticed, let alone someone like Shaun Cassidy.
Sometime in the late 70’s, was the first time I saw the 1975 movie The Stepford Wives. It terrified me to think that even though these women were beautiful and talented, it still wasn’t enough to satisfy their husbands. The men in the community had their beautiful, but dare to be independent wives turned into robots that were unwaveringly subservient to their husbands. These robots would never age, they were perfect in every way, shape, and form, but they were void of thought, compassion, and joy. However, that didn’t matter as long as they looked good and tended to their families. Once again, I knew I would never look like them, so I groomed myself to be the perfect housewife. I eventually went to cooking school, became a therapeutic massage therapist and even learned to be adventurous in the bedroom. Still, it didn’t get me what I wanted, the attention of a “good man”. Instead, I became fodder for men who fed off my low self-esteem, they lied to me, cheated on me and in the end, no matter how subservient I tried to be, it wasn’t even enough to keep them in my life.
I recently had breakfast with a woman I admire. She is always well put together, hair, nails, clothes, the works. She is of my age and though she is not “thin”, she is definitely not “fat”. I told her that her face looked gaunt, so thin and she told me about how hard she has been working to lose weight to go to a wedding. Working out hard, eating mostly protein and she still couldn’t lose any weight. She is obsessed with her thighs and tells me that she refuses to wear shorts and would never wear a bathing suit. Okay, how wrong is that? I believe I am at least fifty pounds heavier than her and I just bought a new bathing suit this year because well, I wanted to. I’m the one who should never be flaunting it, but I do, why? Because life has taught me, at the end of the day, no one really cares, but me.
This friend is going to an Italian villa next year that boasts a beautiful swimming pool and spa. I told her, that she needs to get over this believing that she is not worthy of being seen in a swim suit and that she will kick herself if she goes to the Italian villa and never sets foot in the beautiful swimming pool or spa. I really hope she heard me. I really hope that my voice will stifle the voice in her head, the voice that has been telling her for lord knows, how long, that she shouldn’t show her legs in public.
There probably was a time in my life when I did the same thing to myself, but no more. I do try to follow the rules I have learned to dress right for my body type and yes, I do believe there are age-appropriate clothing rules that should be adhered to, but how is it that some women choose to live in the shadows of their own beauty? What happened to them in their lives that clouds their vision of who they see when they look in the mirror? For me, yes it was the magazines and TV shows, the kids at school and my own family, but somehow, I have managed to claw my way out of the dark shadows and dance in the sunlight.
I am fully aware that I am aging, but my gray looks like highlights, yep, let’s go with that. I still have good skin, even if there’s a lot more of it than there was in my twenties. My ever-expanding waistline makes clothes shopping challenging, but right now, I’m wearing a sleeveless shirt with big bright flowers on it and red capris. This outfit screams, “Look at me!!!” even if I’m in not the prettiest girl in the room, I’m okay with that, because it makes me feel like I am. My wish for my friend and so many others out there, is that one day they will see themselves through my eyes. One day, they will look in the mirror and their expectations will become more gentle and loving. One day, they will look in the mirror and see a person that is strong and kind, brave and intelligent and perfect, just the way they are, thighs and all.
#thelieswechoosetolivewith
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