People totally underestimate a woman's vanity. It often defies all logic and any measure of reasonableness. Take me, a prime example. Yesterday, like most days, I felt horribly horribly pudgy. I put on my 'slim' clothes and nearly fell over at how much weight I've put on from my vegetarian service to the environment. I stuck my tongue out at the Monster Fat Girl who stared back at me, defiantly waved my middle finger at the resolution to stop shopping, and drove like a maniac to Cats Whiskers - the shopperholics supermarket - and proceeded to shop, Shop, SHOP away the fat.
In this fat month, I daresay I have spent a shameful RM2k on attempting to beautify myself and make myself...well, less fat. I admit, it's a disgusting amount to spend when on a tight budget. I already shopped myself to near death on my trips to Bangkok and with ongoing house maintenence, two holidays coming up, road tax, car insurance, and other year-end expenditure, shopping is simply too expensive and frivolous a therapy to be engaged in. Yet I just can't help myself. I am stupidly convinced that eye lash extensions, ball gowns, baggy black tops, yet another black dress, shoes, shoes, shoes, and enough lipgloss to make a whole cookbook shine gloriously will make me beautiful and attractive to all.
Oh state the obvious why not. That beauty comes fron within...blah, blah, blah. Try telling a fat girl that! Beauty comes from within alright - ie. there's a thin girl inside me just dying to get out!
The point I'm trying to make is that vanity has everything to do with what's ticking upstairs. To others you may look alright but to the mind's eye, alright means hideous. Stomach rings, thighs, butt cheeks, face cheeks, arms, calves are magnified ten-fold. Oh, someone call the plastic surgeon please!
The battle against delusion is a much harden one to win than than the battle against the bulge. The physical can be modified with diets and exercise but upstairs, the wiring is complicated. Years of conditioning, brain washing and image haunting from let's-not-name-the-sources can take decades to undo and is an ongoing, tiresome, boring boring issue to have to overcome.
Mind you, some days are good, when the hormones are stable, the jeans button up and the boy you fancy makes eye contact. But most days, the oestrogen ODs and your face shines worse than the Exxon Valdez slick, the fat has nowhere to go and spills into your jeans pockets and the boy you fancy gets chatted up by the hot chick with the long legs and shiny hair.
I know, they say if you feel good, you look good. But seriously girls...how true is that?
While you try to come up with a convincing answer, excuse me, I have some shopping to do.
No comments:
Post a Comment