Pretty Cursed

Beauty is such an odd thing. Women spend hundreds of dollars, getting hair extensions, eyelash extensions, nose jobs, teeth whitening treatments, boob jobs… the list is extensive. We run on the treadmill, pay gobs of money to personal trainers and endanger our health to lose weight. It is ingrained in our culture to pick, alter, and transform ugly ducklings into gorgeous creatures.  What about those who are already there? 

There is a small percentage of women who are just natural beautiful. In some cosmic lottery, they have been the winners. Some women have long, thick, shiny hair without hair  extensions, some have perky, full breasts without the need for a surgeon.  Some are a magical perfect height and have no need for painful high heels. Some women have cheekbones that could cut you. Some can eat carbs with abandon and not gain an ounce. We’ve been taught to envy these women. We’ve been taught, on our way to mirror them, to hate them. 

When you are a beautiful woman, you do not get to own your beauty, it belongs to everyone else. When your beautiful, you get told to smile, often. Your smile is expected to brighten the room, someone else’s day.  You are expected to look flawless every day. If you have a zit or gain five pounds, you’ve suddenly really let yourself go. You don’t get to decline yet another selfie with your friends in the same pose as a hundred others on your Facebook, because “you’re gorgeous”. You don’t get to have an off day, feel less than hundred percent, otherwise you’ve become insecure. 

You don’t get to politely decline a drink, or a date from some slug at the bar because then you’re bitch. You don’t get the luxury of not replying to countless online dating messages of, “you’re so beautiful” or “hey gorgeous” , or “let’s get you out of those panties”, because these creeps have been spoon fed the notion just because they have a penis, they are entitled to have a stunning babe on their arm. 

You can’t say you’re beautiful. You can’t acknowledge it. You’re now conceited. You have to wear your beauty and never take it off, but you’re not supposed to be aware of it. You’re supposed to look surprised and blink those big eyes and say something breathless and soft to stroke the ego of the compliment giver. You’re supposed to act like beautiful, sexy, gorgeous, and stunning aren’t adjectives that you hear daily. You’re supposed to pretend that you don’t cringe inside when you hear them. You can’t say you’d prefer to be called intelligent, or compassionate, or funny. You don’t get those words. Those are reserved for those less fortunate looking. 

You can’t leverage your beauty, because you’ve become a gold digger. You can’t have casual sex with whomever you chose, because pretty girls like you should keep their legs closed. You don’t get to say no, because they will say they slept with you regardless. You don’t get to have a quiet affair, because he’ll be shouting it from the rooftops. 

Why? Why is this something we claw, obsess, and bankrupt ourselves over; all to fit some societal norm? Why do we want to subject ourselves to being treated like walking, talking dolls? Why do we want to strip ourselves of everything that makes us unique? Why is being beautiful the best thing you can be as a female? 

XOXO, 

Piper

Piper

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