The Price of Beauty

– Em

Here’s what I don’t get being a girl. Pain is bad, right? Like, you cut your shin and it stings like crazy, especially when it scraps all skin off around the cut and leaves a bruise, and that’s bad. Pain alerts us that something is wrong, doesn’t it? Can you imagine life without pain? We wouldn’t know we were bleeding to death until it was too late.

Pain lets us known that something is wrong. Something is bad. If you feel something crack in your elbow after landing on it, if you can’t move without crying and if you can’t think straight from pain, obviously your elbow is broken or fractured.

There’s a very simple point I’m trying to get to here. I’m not saying girls shouldn’t take care of their bodies, but how do you know when you’re taking your physical looks too far?

For example, every girl has their shaving horror stories. Brothers pointing out, loudly, that a girl’s shins are bleeding and wondering what happened. Cutting a little too exuberantly and having little pinpricks of blood spring up from every other pore. Accidentally making that one sloppy slip with your razor and having a faint scar to this day of what happened in a rushed moment to make your legs smooth.

Eyebrow plucking, stinging face wash, burned hair in an effort to make your hair curl just right or pin straight…

Eyeliner was originally used to protect Egyptians from the sun’s glare. Not to make your eyes pop. And while striving to be white as the driven snow with powder that creates acne isn’t good, per se, isn’t it far better then increasing the risk of cancer by tanning 24/7 every summer?

Times change. I know that. Hair styles (have you seen the 70s afros?), make up (or the white powdered skin of the Victorian era?), clothing (everyone wore dresses in the middle ages)… Everything changes. But pain is, and always will be, a sign that something, somewhere, is wrong.

The price of beauty is pain. That statement should be ringing alarm bells in your head. You have to draw a line somewhere when it comes to beauty and style, because you never know. You could start small, with painful face washes and cutting off circulation in your legs while wearing skinny jeans, and at find at the end of your life facing a Botox®stretched face you don’t recognize. Creepy image, isn’t it?

How far will the world’s definition of beauty take you?



1 Comment

  1. Myth said,

    February 6, 2011 at 11:18 pm

    Awesome post, Em!!!!!!!!!!! So true.

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