I’ve Earned These Wrinkles, Dammit!


A random headline on Yahoo!news the other day read something like this:  “How to look like a Sports Illustrated model.”

Who wants to?

I mean, yeah, sure.  You look at these women with their so-called perfect curves, swelling bosoms, tight buns, flawless skin, perfect makeup (who the F*** wears makeup at the beach?!) and you might think:  *Sigh*  Why can’t that be me?

Know what?  It’s not them, either.

Any one of us — ANYONE — could look that good if we had personal hairdressers and makeup artists and (of vital importance) a photographer who knows the value of lighting, draped clothing (or not), and airbrushing.

But the world moves on convinced in its heart that these women are the ideal.  Would they feel that way knowing that Miz X woke up that morning bloated as an inner tube and cranky as hell?  Would they accept Miz Y with an inflamed pimple the size of a third world country on the end of her nose?  Would they delight in Miz Z’s cellulite-riddle thighs?

Meanwhile, regular everyday women are made to feel less than worthy.  Worse, they EMBRACE that they are made to feel this way.

Throw it off, ladies, I implore you.

Hear me and take heart — you are PERFECT just the way you are.  Oh, heck yes, there’s always room for improvement.  Obviously, you should eat healthy and exercise, but that’s for YOU, not for the media or the rest of the world.  But the inner landscape is worth more than all the sleek and perfect thighs in the world.

You work hard (I know you do).  Give yourself a break from time to time.  Indulge in those things you love.  Learn something new that you’ve always wanted to know.  Put yourself first for a change instead of last (or, too often, not at all).

You’re worth it.

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About Melissa Crandall

Longer ago than I care to admit--although I will--I cut my writing teeth on fanzines and media tie-in novels. Since then, I've moved on to narrative nonfiction, speculative fiction, and essays. I write to explore and understand the world around me, the things I see and experience nearby or from a distance. If I shake myself up, cool. If I shake you up, even better. Not gratuitously--what's the point in that?--but to set what I know, or think I know, on end and realize, "Well, doesn't it look different from this side!" My work is neither sexually explicit nor graphically violent. Let's face it - your imaginations will come up with things far worse than anything I could write, no matter how descriptive. Besides, it's just not my thing. I live in Connecticut with my supportive husband Ed, a cat named Ruby who might just think she's a dog, and an epileptic Australian shepherd named Holly who isn't quite certain anymore who she is, except she knows she loves her mommy.
This entry was posted in Appearances, Connecticut, Honesty, Independent Writers, Melissa Crandall, personal growth, Truth, Women, Writer, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to I’ve Earned These Wrinkles, Dammit!

  1. Becky says:

    Good one Melissa. Those “swelling bosoms” you mentioned are not all they are cracked up to be, take it from someone that knows. I used to fret over my wrinkles, but you know once I lost my beautiful mom I realized they aren’t so bad after all.

  2. A.M. Kuska says:

    I’d love to look like one of those models. They can do that in photoshop, right? ^^ I’ll send in a pic for ‘them’ to work on one of these days.

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