Some people are uggo. My husband says these are the people who should not procreate, but of course they always do. Some people are naturally gorgeous – Catherine Zeta Jones comes to mind. The rest of us wind up somewhere in the middle. We can pump up the effort and look reasonably good but if you caught us rolling out of bed, the word “pretty” would not jump to your mind.
Our society has biases about everything. Weight, race, age, ethnicity, religion, wealth, etc. Even beauty.
Pretty people probably get better treatment in stores. There are certain jobs that being pretty is a prerequisite, but only for women. Morley Safer had one foot in the grave and they put him on camera yet, Andrea Mitchell looks younger every time I see her. TV news is a tough job.
Flight attendants used to have weight restrictions. (They called them stewardesses in those days.) Being pretty was another requirement.
Paris Hilton has made a career out of nothing but her looks.
I think pretty people ride high for a while but when the aging process kicks in, it must be terribly depressing. For public figures, it must be awful to overhear, “She’s not aging well.”
Yes, it’s a world based on beauty. Aging Baby Boomers. Vitamins, creams, potions and plastic surgery – all to stay ahead of the aging eight ball. I am a participant. I own all those potions and apply them religiously. New make-up to diminish the appearance of your wrinkles? I’m there. Laser treatments to remove “liver spots”? Bring it on. I highlight my hair in hopes of looking younger than I am. I have even thought about getting hair extensions so I can have long, sexy hair like Gweneth Paltrow. Ever since I was a little girl, I have been intrigued by beauty and glamour. It fascinates me.
I recently had my photo taken publicly for something personally important. In my eyes, I looked like a rhinoceros. It was appalling. My friends were nice and said I looked great. I’d like to take lessons on how to make the camera like me – in case there is a next time. I’m vain (but honest). I was not raised to think this way. My parents taught me that it’s more important to have “internal beauty” than be beautiful. Somewhere along the line I slipped off the wagon and bought into the pretty people concept.
Hopefully I don’t impose my own beauty judgments on other people.