Subverting The Dominant Paradigm

My Memorial Day barbecue this year is going to involve a hot tub, and then my work conference is at a hotel with a pool, and then of course there’s the week I will be spending on the beach in Fiji on my way to New Zealand. I have a little bit of a hard time understanding the concept of clothing that you wear specifically to get wet but whatever, I can deal. I have an old Speedo lap-swimming suit from when I was swimming laps (uh, right) for exercise several years ago but it is grimly utilitarian and saggy and awful and I can’t go to Fiji like that. And I’m going salsa dancing tomorrow night plus I have this wedding to go to now at which I plan to be the second hottest woman in the room…and so it was I came home from Target last night with a bag full of bikinis and high heels. Yeah, I don’t recognize myself either.

I picked out a set that had a heart on the top, a set that had very cool skull-and-crossbones charms hanging off it, and a set that was white-on-black on the bottom and black-on-white on the top. No way in hell was I going to try on bathing suits in the Target dressing rooms, and so on the drive home I began to write this journal entry in my head, dwelling on the deep centering breaths I’d have to take to be able face my figure in the mirror in my room, the single tear falling down my cheek as I confronted my chub and my flab and my cellulite. I thought I might write something about who did I think I was, buying bikinis to wear in public when obviously such a thing should be against the law.

What happened instead was that the heart and the skull-and-crossbones didn’t quite fit, and the white-on-black bottom did fit but the black-on-white top didn’t quite but was still cute enough to make me want to exchange it for a different, smaller, size. I tried the shoes on with my salsa dance outfit for tomorrow and the dress I hope to wear to the wedding and that was it. I felt pretty, and witty, and just the tiniest bit gay, and at the end of my dress-up session I thought I looked good.

And right away, I want to write, “Well, good, considering it’s me” or “No worse than I expected” or “Good, if you discount my multiple physical flaws, which I never do, and here is an enumeration thereof.” Part of me wants to assure you that in no way am I telling you that I’m pretty, or attractive, or lovely in any way, because I don’t want you to roll your eyes at the screen and think to yourself “Well, that’s very…ambitious of her.” Part of me wants to tell you that I know what I am, thanks very much, and that I’m not trying to get above myself here, or trying to fish for a compliment, and that I know all I can expect, in terms of looks, is a sort of bland normality, nothing that will make you visibly blanch when you look at me, and that I hope it’s okay with you, that I won’t hurt your eyes too much, if I dare to wear a flippy pink knee-length dress with a low-cut neck, spaghetti straps, and kitten heels in a couple of weekends.

I get a little shaky when I start thinking like that and so sometimes I try to imagine the women I know who seem to me to completely love and cherish their bodies and when I’m sucking in my stomach and frowning at myself in the mirror I’ll recite the rosary of their names and invoke their assurance and style and grace: Anna. Sharon. Renee. Genevieve. Chrysa. Jessica. Sahana. Wendy. Tracy. Rohini. Amy. Monique. Katherine. Anne-Carolyn. Calin. Kathleen. Marisol. Sometimes it works. Sometimes I think that these women have taught me the secret of believing that everyone really is gorgeous, that the whole world is made of beauty and all of us participate in and contribute to it in our different ways and shapes and methods. Sometimes I think that I can participate and contribute too, and other times it seems ridiculous and impossible.

And I know, of course, that body image issues or low-self-esteem are problems of privilege, that most of the women of the world would be happy to have those problems instead of the ones about where to sleep and how to eat and how to protect the children. I’m non-disabled and physically very healthy and I have a good life, so good that I know I don’t have any right to complain at all about something so trivial as my looks or my size or my feelings about either of those things. And, too, I don’t want to think that happiness and self-acceptance can be bought at Target. But, still: why are women of power judged on their looks while men aren’t? Why are there multiple industries bringing in millions of insecurity dollars? Why do some of us spend so much time hating ourselves, the dreary grind of the constant underbreath muttering that you will never, never, never, never be perfect?

I feel like I should be subverting the dominant paradigm instead of thinking about something so egocentric but the fact is, in my head, the dominant paradigm is YOU ARE UGLY AND THIS IS WHY NO ONE CAN EVER LOVE YOU. I have heard it and heard it and it’s got me in a lot of trouble at various times in my life and I guess after the first ten or fifteen years I didn’t even have to hear it from other people anymore because it was playing at a low-level, barely conscious loop and sometimes I would (and will) do people the favor of telling them, just so there’s no confusion, that I’m quite unattractive, sorry about that. By the age of thirty-one I have learned to say, brightly, “Thanks! What a nice thing to say!” when someone pays me a compliment, but always underneath is the whisper ”They’re lying.

I hate that whisper. Somehow deciding to wear a two-piece bathing suit to a Memorial Day barbecue or a sparkly top and heel when I go out dancing feels like a big FUCK YOU PARADIGM. You won’t dominate me much longer—one day I will subvert you entirely.


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12 responses to “Subverting The Dominant Paradigm”

  1. Anne-Carolyn Avatar

    Hell yeah! That’s what I’m talking about.

    That outfit you described? That’s not a sidekick outfit. That’s a Star outfit. You wouldn’t have chosen to wear it if, deep down, even deeper then that little Gollum of a voice, you didn’t know you were a Star.

  2. Peter Boothe Avatar

    See, now this is the thing. When hotties tell you that you, yourself are a hottie, you might want to believe them. It’s like really well-read people complementing your taste in books, or John complimenting your videogame skillz. These people know what they are talking about.

    Also, have you hung out with my cousin yet?

  3. Kim Avatar
    Kim

    Beautifully said. It’s not enough we all constantly doubt ourselves, but when we dare to squelch it, we then feel guilty. It’s fun being a girl!

  4. Eliza Avatar

    A thousand times amen.

  5. Jem Avatar

    Your bathing suits sound awesome. I know how it feels to talk yourself down, as in, “I know that I’m not pretty or whatever BUT…” I remember when I was way lighter than I am now, I put together this really really hot outfit…my black pleated skirt, and a pink halter top that only tied in a thin strap at the back. And just before I went out, I started stressing that my back looked soooooo fat and how could I wear that, so I put on a black cardigan over the top. Nate took a picture of me, which I looked at the other day (now that I am heavier and trying to lose weight) and I couldn’t believe how good I looked – there was no way I needed to wear that black cardigan! So what I’m trying to say somehow is that you probably look awesome.

  6. Jessica Avatar
    Jessica

    This is so interesting! If I were going to say my own rosary, your name would be in it!

    One of the biggest things that helped with my body image was, ironically, becoming disfigured. When I was 12 I was bitten by a dog, and it was anything but pretty. It took them four hours to stitch me up, and and when they were done the right side of my face, from my eye to the underside of my jaw, was scarred and immobile.

    The miraculous thing was that *everyone,* including my middle school peers, treated me with such warmth after the accident.

    By the time I was in high school the scars had mostly faded and my muscle function returned, but I still had with me the knowledge I got from being disfigured – that people would love me even if I were “ugly.”

    Also, I echo what Peter says about taking compliments from hotties – dancing with a whole bunch of kick-ass, beautiful women who tell me *I’m* beautiful is just the best.

    I’ve always thought you were a total hottie!

    And plus, you get my absolute admiration for the bikini thing – that’s totally rockstar.

  7. Jessica Avatar
    Jessica

    and also – yes, let’s hang out this summer when you’re in good ol’ California.

  8. Sarah Avatar
    Sarah

    I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s looking for the pictures on this page — I’d love to see you in a bikini. You are already so hot, that well, a bikini? Wow. (And yes, I have several which I look totally hot in.)

    If target lets you, try mixing and matching different tops and bottoms — I’ve often found better fit that way.

  9. dorrie Avatar
    dorrie

    A-Fucking MEN

  10. Renee Avatar
    Renee

    You are going to come to my BBQ and you are going to WORK THAT BATHING SUIT.

    And I bought some shoes at Target yesterday, too! We will have to compare.

  11. Amy Avatar

    Hooray for hotties in bikinis!!! I’m tired of not feeling comfortable in public in a bikini, dammit! I know they are not very practical for high dives and lap swims, but I don’t care!

    We need to spend some time at the beach this summer (before you leave) in our bikinis and loving it! YEAH!

  12. Sharon Avatar
    Sharon

    I totally missed this post, and I am honored to be in your rosary! Not one of us is probably as pleased with our bodies as you have painted us to have, but I gotta say, even if not my own body, I have learned to see the beauty in OTHER women’s bodies! I truly do believe women are beautiful at every size, even if the sick truth is that I tear myself up in front of the mirror pretty regularly. I wonder if that is true of everyone…