Beautiful Cinderella

Cinderella has been taking orders from her stepmother for a long time.  Turns out, little girls have heard the tale for centuries. In the book,

Glass Slipper, Gold Sandal, author Paul Fleishman says the story  may have originated in ninth century China, but versions are found  around the world.  Cinderella lives with a cruel stepmother who forces her to work day and night. Animals help Cinderella. I recall kind mice, but other girls would hear of a helpful snake (India) or sparrow (Germany).  Cinderella wears a lovely gown to the ball. Of course, in Japan she dons a red kimono.  And then there are the glass slippers. Except in Iraq, gold sandals adorn  her feet.

The story is popular because of its universal theme of wrongs made right. What's not to like?

Only this. Cinderella is good and beautiful, and her step family is cruel and . . . less than beautiful.  Every illustration I've ever seen shows the stepmother and sisters in an unattractive light. If I use the standards of my time and place, a beautiful woman has large eyes, a dainty nose, high cheek bones, and rather full lips. There's nothing wrong with being physically beautiful, and we admire Cinderella as much for her character as we do for her lovely face. But why must women who do not meet this standard be the villains?  Cinderella's stepmother is a conniving slave-driver -- and she's not beautiful. The stepsisters are selfish and lazy -- and not beautiful. Do I want to read my daughter a story that associates beautiful people with virtue and less-than-beautiful people with vice? She gets that message enough already -- that a woman's goodness and value are closely associated with physical beauty.

What if we tweaked the story -- remove all references to physical beauty and ugliness and illustrate the story so that all the characters are somewhere in-between -- not ugly but not ravishing beauties either. With the physical element neutralized, the focus would remain on character alone.

Our daughters would hear, "What matters is your character. Do you treat people with respect and kindness or are you cruel and selfish?"

Or am I taking this tale too seriously? "Come on, Wendy. Just enjoy the story and don't analyze everything."

We should enjoy the story and its magic. But I refuse to ignore its hidden messages, especially when they're directed at my daughter. Her value is not wrapped up in high cheekbones and large eyes.

I will keep the magic, of course. Because coaches and horses do turn back into pumpkins and mice at midnight. Hold onto that glass slipper, Cinderella. A happy ending and a shoe that fits: that's the beauty of a good story.

Men Battle Culture, too

"Have you noticed the men?"
asked my friend as we strolled down the beach. "Some of them are
 grossly overweight, but it doesn't seem to bother them to go shirt-less."

Men don't seem to struggle as much with body image. But a male friend
 told me that he has his own battles with our culture. He feels pressure to
 meet an achievement standard. The culture lies to men, too. It tells them,
 "You're not a real man unless you're strong, wealthy, powerful."

But at least man is judged on the fruit of his hard work and ingenuity.
 A woman is judged on her looks -- which are more the result of genes than
genius. There's something healthy about recognizing a person's determination
and talent. On the other hand, a perverse understanding of success can infect
our esteem of men. Sometimes a man of integrity watches his profits go south
 because he makes a moral business decision. Our culture calls him a failure.

I have a fourteen-year-old son and a seven-year old daughter. I don't want him judged by his wealth and power, and I don't want her judged by her physical beauty. I want both of them to be measured "by the content of their character," as Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., put it.

Women are not the only victims of our culture. We need to help our brothers battle the culture's lies about manhood, and we need their help as we fight lies about beauty. Sisters, have you ever shown a blog like this to men in your life?  I'm not above shameless self-promotion. All in the name of fighting the culture's lies. That's what I call success. It's a beautiful thing.

The Beauty of Justice

"First-world problems," someone wrote on my friend's
 Facebook wall. My friend had a bad day at work, and the writer of

 the post reminded him that his problem was not life and death. Most
 of us don't worry about going hungry or surviving a civil war. I have
 the luxury of thinking about beauty and body image, and not where
 my next meal -- or the next airstrike - is coming from. To be clear:
 many people in the world do worry about those dangers. But I am not
 among them, so I have time to ponder something self-centered like
 body image.

Is this blog full of narcissistic fluff? A detractor could say, "Wendy,
get a real problem and write about something that matters -- a justice issue or something." But could this be a justice issue?

The culture tells me my worth lies in meeting its standard of physical beauty. The purpose of this blog is to help women believe in their worth as people made in the image of God and to fight our culture's lies about beauty. Those lies are a form of oppression. To oppress is to dominate or persecute by unjust use of force or authority. American media claims to be an authority and says you are worthless if you do not meet its standards. That is emotional abuse, and it's a form of injustice.

Are there bigger problems in the world? Yes. But the psalmist says, blessed are those "who execute justice for the oppressed," and that means, fight oppression wherever it festers. Kill it before it morphs into something worse. On this blog, I discuss ideas we get from our culture. Bad ideas grow into bigger problems like hunger and war. Call this a pre-emptive strike.

 

Beach Body

"You're wrong, Wendy," my friend protested.
"The beach is the BEST place for it."            

In a blog post I said the beach was the worst place to go if you have body image issues. There are hundreds of practically naked people. When I lounge on the shore, I occasionally glance up from my magazine and watch humanity walk by. That's when I am sorely tempted to compare myself to other women.

"Au contraire," said my friend, who writes the blog,
www.fatfemmefatale.com and is a size 28. "At the beach it's obvious that no one has the body the media promotes. It's the great equalizer."

She's right. How often do you see someone with the perfect body? What is perfect? And how many times have you thought, "Well, at least I look better than that woman. Honestly -- someone needs to tell her that heavy women should not wear bikinis."

Who is allowed to wear a bikini? Leaving modesty issues aside for a moment, if we insist that a woman's body must be perfect to don a bikini, aren't we saying that most people are unacceptable? And our standard is a lie preached by our culture.

Now, I wish some people would wear more than the handkerchief-sized suit they strapped on. But my reason for that should be, "modesty is important," and NOT "you're too fat/busty/flat-chested/fill-in-the-blank."

Don't buy the lies sold by the media. And let's hear it for a bit more modesty. It'll save you money on sunscreen.

Senior Pictures

Remember that black shoulder drape they made you wear for your high school senior picture?

That was so 1980s. Or 90s maybe.
Nowadays some parents are shelling out major bucks for a private
 photo session on location. And did I mention the hair stylist and
 make-up artist who work you over before you smile for the camera?

After reading about this trend in the Wall Street Journal and feeling
indignant, the truth came back to haunt me.  I said to myself,
"Now, Wendy, did you not just pay a professional photographer
to take pictures of your seven-year-old daughter in a lovely little
garden near your home?" Okay, I'm busted. I'm just jealous because
I didn't have a makeover and wardrobe consultation when I had my
senior pictures taken.

But something caught my eye in the Journal article. One young lady noted that in the photos her face looked "flawless with no blemishes . . . . It's just so reassuring." When one photographer took the photo proofs to the students' homes, the girls "would pore over them for hours looking for imperfections."

Ah, perfection, that elusive dream. At least the girl whose blemishes were erased realized a photograph doesn't always show reality. A photographer can touch up a spot here, erase a wart there. Does the girl understand that they do the same thing with the pictures of professional models? Does she know her real face is beautiful simply because it's her face? When she applies mascara does she know her eyes are the window to her lovely soul, to paraphrase the old proverb?

God delights in your beauty. So go to the photo shoot and have fun. But remember that your beauty doesn't need to be retouched. For you are forever graced by the fingerprints of God.

Anorexia and OCD

Is your fight against the culture's lies a mental
struggle or a mental illness?                                                       
                                                           

                                                                           
Every woman wrestles with our culture. Media tells us we're not pretty enough or thin enough or curvy enough. But what if the struggle takes over your life? One example is anorexia nervosa. The mental fight crosses a line, and the obsession with being thin drives the victim to starve herself.  It's a physical illness requiring medical intervention.

In my case the illness is not anorexia but obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD). A psychiatrist diagnosed me thirty years ago. It affects how I view my body.  I am small-busted, and our culture constantly tells me my figure is ugly. "You're not a woman," is what I hear whenever I glance at a magazine cover.

I've thought about it every day since I was twelve. That's 11,680 days of feeling inadequate. (I'll do the math for you -- I'm 44.) Thanks to a drug called Wellbutrin, OCD no longer controls my life, but it's probably involved in my body image issues. This realization led me to talk to a counselor about it a year ago, and the counseling has helped.

Have you -- or has a friend -- crossed a line? I know nothing about diagnosing eating disorders. I know a lot about suffering from OCD, but even so, I'm not an M.D. If you think you may need it, get a professional involved.  

And leave a comment here or on facebook for me. You may not need the help of a professional, but if you're like me, you do need the support of fellow soldiers in the fight against our culture's lies.

Hooters = The Louvre?

Thank you, Hooters, for helping me get some intellectual exercise.

It's ironic, since  a woman's intellect is not exactly what's on display at Hooters. Recently, a Hooters waitress sued the chain. She had an unsightly scar from brain surgery, and wearing a wig was uncomfortable. Hooters said she would have to wear a head covering. After all, Hooters sells an experience, and a bald woman doesn't exactly fill the bill.

I've never liked Hooters. A Hooters Girl doesn't strip, but she does sell her body.
She cheapens womanhood -- her own and every other woman's.

Or does she? Why is it okay to admire a classical painting of a nude woman at a museum, but it's not okay to enjoy the beauty of a waitress at Hooters?

Two reasons. A Hooters Girl is there in the flesh. And she's showing too much of it.

Studying a nude portrait of someone you don't know is not the same as watching a real live woman taking your order for chicken wings. Admiring the beauty of a woman is fine -- unless you're admiring skin she should only reveal to her husband. A portrait of a nude in the Louvre elevates female beauty. Ogling a Hooters Girl reduces a woman to the status of an object.

Let the Hooters people try to tell me they're no different from a museum. The truth is, they're much greasier, and they denigrate the dignity of women. So I've still got a bone to pick with them.

Pass the ranch dressing.