Who really cares!?

I am the biggest cheerleader for women and their self esteems. We (women) are incessantly subjected to ridiculous marketing and advertising that portrays women that are 'perfect'. Extremely slim women, with luscious hair, no wrinkles and zero cellulite. I suspect that there may be a woman or two out there that has all these attributes without surgical assistance or alien DNA, but for those who do not, I say who really cares?! Errrr, sadly I do. This perfect woman is somebody I have been overly consumed with trying to be since I became aware I was a female. I have spent far too much of my time worrying about the size of my thighs, my waist, the colour of my hair, the lines around my eyes and mouth. I avoid being photographed, I am suspicious of any compliment and I come close to anxiety attacks when an event requiring something fancier than sweat pants requires my attendance. I should not feel this way. I would be sick if my daughter ever felt this way about herself. I recognize the beauty in all of my girlfriends and I can acknowledge that they are not 'society perfect'. Because, truthfully, they are perfect.  They are real. They love. They work. They smile. They dance. They listen. They scream. They wear size zero and size 32. They are beautiful. 

Why does beauty seem to have very little leeway when it comes to marketing and advertising? Why do we (women) allow that BS to exist? I recently joined a fitness group on Facebook that is challenging its members to complete 100 reps of 3 different exercises daily. I had my husband photograph me last night (in my underwear and bra) to document the 'before' of this challenge. When I saw the picture I was in tears. I focused on everything that was imperfect. I felt defeated before I even began. And why? My husband tells me daily that I am beautiful. He loves the lines around my mouth made by my smile. He does not see the 2 inch difference in my waist as disgusting, he finds me sexy. So why am I measuring my beauty by the tool developed by society? I do not measure my friends as such, yet I know they subject themselves to society's guideline too. We need to change the measuring stick. We need to celebrate what makes us different. In difference there is beauty.  No more impossible physical standards, no more photoshopped pictures of women, no more embracing of a standardized "perfect". Instead we celebrate being real.  Real is beautiful. Real is perfect. We need to stand up and say ENOUGH, because we really don't care!

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