If you have read my last blog post you will already have some knowledge of 'le arm break/weed dealer/ broke dancer saga. So in updated news… I am 6 weeks in, in an arm cast that after many gym training sessions and accidental guacamole droppings smells like monkeys ass and looks like a I've made it till the season finale of Survivor … not really the best accessory I have worn in my days, even despite some of my very questionable early 2000’s fashion faux pas.
As such, in this highly informative blog post, I will teach you some wonderful insights I have learnt from the past few weeks, some basic and easy to follow steps to letting yourself well and truly go.
I’ll premise this with the all too familiar knowledge that as a woman, you’re inherent value and worth to society, as we all know is based upon your looks. I know and will admit that in our image obsessed culture, this is increasingly the truth for all the genders. But let’s not kid ourselves here, from politics, to entertainment, to economics and microcosms of day to day social interactions, a woman’s main currency is her looks. American culture is the extreme of what such thinking can do with these gender presuppositions, where female politicians are routinely critiqued about Botox and fashion choices, ladies on screen are limited generally to a few casting types, and over-sexualisation and objectification of the female body is rampant in the marketing of our over-consumeristic world.
As someone working in the realm of media and entertainment, I have had my fair share of very, very personal rejections. Having sold my soul as a dancer to the commercial devil, I am now considered for jobs not usually on talent or ability, the magical X-factor or being able to sleep with the producer, but purely based on photographs of my face and body (photoshopped, make-upped, and highly-staged… obvs).
I will be honest here and say I am as vain and egotistical as any queen on Rue Pauls drag race, just in a slightly more subtle and manipulative way. So, if you have burnt your bras, not shaved your legs in 10 years and don’t know what contouring is… you are in a league of your own and this blog post isn’t for you, go forth and live your most radicalised feminist life. But if you are in any way like me, you like to look good, care a little too much about how many likes you got on social media, and how much attention you manage to garner, and yet are aware of the feminist hypocrisy, the double standards, the vanity and narcissism and contradiction of it all, read on for some very questionably useful top tips.
Tip one. Shaving is a choice. They say hair can always grow back again, I say hair can always be shaved again, and if you don’t feel like keeping up with the rigorous hair maintenance schedule required, then don’t do it! I once went 6 months without shaving my legs. It’s probably not something you should be, but my god I was so proud of that achievement. It was liberating, no one died, life went on, I saved time in the shower allotted instead for singing and in-shower performances. And then, I shaved when I was in the mood, and my legs felt like a frigg’n babies butt. Walla.
Tip two. Give your skin a break once in a while. Especially whilst young and you have such fantastically elastic, wrinkle-free skin, enjoy it! A guy never feels exposed walking out of the house without makeup, why should we be any different?
Tip three. Exercise when you actually feel like it. Taking a few days/weeks (months if that's your jam... no one is here to judge) off will not kill you. Whilst I'm all for exercise and the endorphins etc that it brings... sometimes one just needs to watch hours of youtube videos to learn how to properly fold paper aeroplanes whilst eating peanut butter out of the jar. And in the event that said exercising occurs, ensure it is something you enjoy doing... life is too short to run in the same spot for 30 minutes if that is something you genuinely hate to do.
Tip four. Wear comfortable clothes. Having decided that with my broken arm, I can’t make my boyfriend do my jeans up all the time, especially considering he thinks its hilarious to hike them up too high and give me a camel toe, I invested in what I term pregnancy pants. They still looked good (well at least in my opinion), but oh my god, I don’t know how I am going to be able to go back now. Moral of the story, yes wear clothes that make you feel good, but maybe another consideration and priority could also be clothes that are just super comfortable to wear so you don’t have to always worry about sucking it in, or that at any moment you will pull a Janet Jackson.
And now for my closing comments... Enjoy the tension between being a feminist and a (perhaps slightly vain) woman, question everything, do the body work to fully embrace who you are- it saves time and money first of all, and secondly, self-confidence, unlike looks, is an appreciable asset. And with that pep talk done for the day, time to go live my best undone life.