I went to a different Mass last weekend, so I ran into people I hadn't seen in a really long time. It was great, until this older guy in the parish came up to me to say hello -or so I thought. What he really said was "You're certainly getting older." Well, no kidding, Dick Tracy. This stuff only goes in one direction; I'm unlikely to get younger. But, l'esprit d'escalier and all that. I didn't think to say that until something like four hours later. Instead I just smiled and said "beats the alternative." And then fretted about it for a while.
I told our daughter about this conversation and her only comment was "What's he a professor of?". She just knew that somehow some professors feel exempt from the rules of social exchange. Well, I guess she learned that in a fairly obvious way, now that I think about it.
And here's the thought running parallel to this. It's Women's History Month, so I'm collecting my thoughts about feminism to share in a discussion-panel event and preparing to listen to other people's thoughts on the subject. Where does body modification fit in? Should I go buy different clothes that don't make me look like I'm wearing the latest collection from The Salvation Army? Should I *gasp* color my hair? I know I need to lose weight, but would I be doing it because this guy mentioned my appearance? That would stink, if that were the motivation that pushed me to actually do it. (I still haven't remembered this guy's name, by the way. Mike, you'll have to help me out here. If I'm going to stick pins in his voodoo doll, I should know his name.) Clearly we're not talking about genital mutilation here. I'm talking about getting a manicure, for heaven's sake. But where is the line? Is there a line?
My early feminism suggested to me (and this was my high-school ideology completely made up by me... don't blame feminism writ large) that standards of beauty were to please men and made objects of women, so they should be rejected. Think about high heels, for example. I'm still pretty committed to rejecting those, but for different reasons. They're obnoxious and hurt my feet. What I missed in my youthful excitement was that there's some connection between psychic health and physical beauty.
I just don't know quite what it is yet. This could go two ways -or a blend of them, I suppose. Either my body could reflect an increased inner confidence, so I'd naturally gravitate toward more attractive clothes, fixing my hair in some non-heinous way, wearing jewelry.... whatever. In other words, I'd be seeing my body as something that can be molded and changed and tweaked. Or I could take the opposite approach and say that, yes indeed, I am getting older. And what we bloody well need to do is craft an image of beauty that includes gray hair, and wrinkles, and strong, aging bodies. In that case, I'd be seeing societal images of beauty as the thing that could be molded. I'm stumped as to which way this will go. But I promise I'll be giving this -and the crafting of really elegant voodoo dolls- some serious thought.
My working hypothesis is that I'll decide that I MUST go shopping, get overwhelmed at all of the false choices available at the mall (there's lots of stuff but none of it is designed for my body), and go hang out at the coffee shop instead. We'll see....
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