How Far Would You Go for Beauty?
I came across a photo of Sophia Loren, the ‘60s Hollywood bombshell, and something shocked me. She had armpit hair. And this was not a “Cher wearing a face mask in a velour sweat suit” type of picture, she was wearing couture at an awards show. Something that women would be universally mocked for today was present in the emblem of beauty and glamour during the era of my grandparents in the United States. This made me reflect on our constantly shifting beauty standards and its influence in the media. Within my own lifetime, I’ve seen how the idyllic body has shifted from being white, blonde and skinny, like Paris Hilton in 2003 to being tan, curvy and toned like Kim Kardashian today. The modern age of beauty often claims that it is more accepting than its predecessors because of its acceptance of different body shapes and skin tones. Yet, I argue that in the age of social media, our more welcoming view of beauty still forces some to reject themselves under the guise of self-acceptance.
On busy days, I do not even remember getting ready in the morning. At the end of the day after I wash all my makeup off, I forget what my actual skin looks like. Honestly, seeing bags under my eyes and visible pores startles me. It struck me that I identify more with the face I post on Instagram than the face staring back at me in the mirror. And I don’t think I’m alone in that feeling. During quarantine, since most of us have not left home and have not been active on social media, I’ve started to get used to that face in the mirror and actually like him, even with his untamed hair and ungroomed eyebrows. The birthmark I always try to hide looks just like the one my mom has on her leg. My nose that I always wanted to get “fixed” is shaped just like my grandpa’s. Don’t get me wrong, a couple of months inside without filters has not eliminated my personal insecurities by any means: I will still be darting to get my eyebrows done once salons open.
But the removal of the expectation to look like the Paris Instagram filter in everyday life made me recognize that there is beauty in the unfiltered. This brought me back to that image of Sophia Loren. Armpit hair, completely natural — not to mention misogynistically accepted for men — would be off-putting if any woman were to have it today. It got me thinking, how far would we, as a society, go for beauty and how do these norms shift so frequently? Is this generation’s armpit hair, the next generation’s yellowed teeth?
I recently had a conversation with one of my close friends about Botox. She said that she wanted to start at 25 for preventative measures because she wanted to look at most 27 for as long as possible. She was partially joking, but I was shocked: I mean, I am already 21. Does that mean I only have six years of peak youthful beauty? Some people live to be 90; does that mean that they have just been declining for 65 years?
My friend isn’t alone – cosmetic treatments that once seemed to be isolated to Bel Air housewives facing midlife crises have spread throughout the country to all age groups. When I lived in L.A., having a cosmetic nurse was like having a barber, even for college freshmen. For those who know me, I fully support cosmetic surgery as long as you are doing it for yourself. Parents spend thousands of dollars for their kids to have metal sheets on their teeth to make their smile more aesthetically pleasing and it is completely socially acceptable and even advised. Yet, once you mention nose jobs or lip fillers, you are deemed superficial and base. Perhaps our line of doing things for purely cosmetic reasons is gradually becoming more extreme. For instance, a generation ago, having greys was normal and even acceptable. Now, it seems as though you are making a statement when you embrace your natural hair color and are under 75. But how do these changes occur and how extreme will we become? Will we ever go in the opposite direction and embrace the natural?
I’m posing this question not because I have an indefatigable answer or opinion about which way society should go, but more so as a point of reflection to whoever is reading. People are leading protests with their exposed grey roots begging government officials to open hair salons because they need to feel like themselves again. What if protestors asked for their plastic surgeon’s office to open again because they need their monthly Juvéderm fillers to feel like themselves? What makes one more superficial than the other? Why is one a sign of self-love and the other a sign of self-hate? From waxing eyebrows and shaving legs to having collagen shots and face lifts, we all have a line of what we are not willing to do for beauty. Is this line innate within us or are we simply products of our environment? Why is that line there and what can we do to mitigate the constant pressure to be the glowing, ever changing image of what is socially desirable?