On Women's Notion of Beauty and Attractiveness

Women’s Notions of Feminine Beauty and Attractiveness

I was talking to a very good friend yesterday, mentioning that there was a young woman I like to look at in Breaking New Grounds.

“Is she hot?” asked my friend, an extraordinarily attractive woman herself.

 

“Good Christ, yes!” was my reply.

“I don’t think of myself of as ‘hot’ anymore.”

“Well that’s stupid of you.”

She appreciated my compliment, backhandedly expressed as it was, but explained that, after 30, she no longer cared about making the effort to impress people, and get attention for her looks. This started me thinking about how women think about their appearances, and how men view them. I came to the unshakable conclusion that, ladies, y’all are fucked up on this subject. Alright, not all of you, but on the whole, you’ve got it wrong.

And, yes, men don’t generally help. The thing is we’d help more, but the appearance industry would make less money if guys like me were listened to.

Start with this thought:

A woman’s attractiveness is in no way proportional to the time she spends in front of the mirror.

 

Think how many women you’ve ever seen wearing so much makeup their faces could barely emote. Did this look good, or more like a mask that was put on? A scary one?

There are two important aspects to attractiveness: physical attributes, and personality.

The young woman at BNG I mentioned was in t-shirt and jeans, and wearing no make-up. One of the reasons I find her so attractive is that I've talked to her.

My rule:

It is patently impossible for a woman who is empty or ugly inside to be beautiful, regardless of what she looks like; most celebutantes and their ilk merely photograph well.

In September I attended a poetry reading, and one of the featured readers was a woman I wouldn’t have given a second glance to just seeing her: she was short, round, bespectacled, and had a big ol’ fro. Appearance did not do it for me. However, when she started her first poem, a piece about how the media had no say over how she felt about herself, or her appearance it was as if a spell had been cast, pulling the scales from eyes. As she recited she had a glow increased to a fire, and she radiated warmth, and true self-love until she was the light in the room.

So:

If what’s inside is magic, nothing outside can hide it.

And:

Self-acceptance is magic. Self-love is powerful magic.

There is also a notion among many women that attractiveness and sexiness are the same thing. THEY ARE NOT. Have a look at the Widow Garret from the show ‘Deadwood’. That character was not portrayed in any overtly sexual way, but she was alluring, and beautiful. The way she dressed is one I’d characterize as just pretty, because that was how it was in that time period. Examine the era the show was set in: even the most interesting women’s clothes were anything but sexy, but the ideas behind many of them still make an impression today with elegance, refinement, color. Sexuality didn’t have to be overt; designers knew that men would go there in their minds anyway, so why just take them?

Whenever I see a woman who is intentionally “all tarted up”, short skirt, high heels, the whole nine, my impression is always that she is either hunting cock, or unaware that she appears to be hunting cock.

From listening to women (because I do that) I understand that there are many purposes to an overtly sexualized appearance. The ones that don’t make me wince, though, are the ones that have to do directly with sex: their own exhibitionism, or their man’s; a genuine cock hunt (a woman with confidence to be unapologetically sexual, even promiscuous if that’s her wish, has a special kind of allure).

When the appearance is assumed to gain some type of advantage in business dealings, or to otherwise outright manipulate a man then I don’t want to look anymore; attractiveness diminishes at that point. It’s rather whorish, and, most times, I prefer sluts to whores; they’re more likely to do what they do for the enjoyment.

 

Beauty is beauty, and fuckability is fuckability.

Related to this is the notion that high heels are the end all of sexy footwear. Breaking your ankle on the brick sidewalks of Portsmouth is not sexy. Walking like you’re afraid of breaking your ankle is not sexy.

Being confident enough to wear what looks good on you, rather than what some rule tells you to wear is much more likely to be sexy.

So one final thought before I leave this for piece to get coffee:

The way to tell if a woman is beautiful: listen to her; but if she doesn’t listen to herself, you may not be able to hear her.

(For those who are wondering, by my stated standard my "extraordinarily attractive" friend is beautiful. All my female friends are; I'm too much a snob to have it else ways.)