I Wanted to be Pretty

The effect of media on female body image and mental health:
In other words, the f*cked up world that is women's magazines and other female-specific media

I wanted to be blonde. Blonde girls got all the guys. Blonde girls were prettier, cuter, hotter. They had tanned skin and clear, blue eyes and perfect, straight, white teeth that shone when they flashed their Hollywood smiles. Or, at least, that's what I gathered from TV.
My friend home-dyed my long brown hair for me, badly. The smell of bleach and other chemicals tainted the air in my living room, stinging my eyes and nostrils, while the dye itself was burning my scalp. The box said 'light golden blonde', but after I washed away the paste, I was left with my dark brown roots and copper hair.
I was horrified.
I was undeniably not blonde.
And I stayed looking like a Weasley for almost a year, slowly letting my hair grow out, until my 17th birthday when I finally gave in and went to the hairdressers to get it dyed back. But, of course, to get my hair back to its natural, lighter brown color it had to be dyed much much darker.
Consequently, I have near-black hair in my junior prom photos.
Needless to say I regret bleaching my hair all those years ago. Not only did it ruin my hair, but also wounded my self-image.

So, there you are. I'm here to tell you that blondes don't have more fun, nor do they get more attention from men (unless the dye job is just so horrific not even Stevie Wonder can take his eyes off you). I caved, and let media dictate to me what I should look like, changing my image to fit the ideal 'beautiful' woman. Not only that, but I was so obsessed with wanting the attention of men that I was prepared to change myself to make myself more attractive to them. To hell with what I thought of myself.
And this is how girls live.
With media constantly screaming at us to watch our weight,
count calories, don't eat that slice of birthday cake because it'll make you fat,
paint your face, stick a black pencil in your eye and cover your lips in this paste that makes it uncomfortable to eat because you don't want to smudge it across your face; that's not cute.
In fact, just stop eating.
Giggle and twirl your hair around your finger.
Bat your eyelashes.
Smile.

F*CK THAT

Here's why you shouldn't do any of that (unless, of course, you want to).
Magazines, advertisements, movies, TV shows, photographs, YouTube videos, models, vloggers
The whole lot of them, and the big corporations and companies that fund, finance, and gain from them
All they want is for you to buy their products. That's what capitalism is all about - the supply and demand market.
If you buy what they're selling, they are happy. But at what cost to you? Because those advertisements are never 'one size fits all', and they all seem to feature the same model. You've seen her hundreds of times already. She's the slim, smilie one with the mile-long legs, the flat stomach, thighs (if you can call them that) void of cellulite, perfectly airbrushed skin (it's actually airbrushed, because nobody it that perfect), perfectly made up, and long bouncy hair that falls usually about halfway down her back. She's also often times white, with blonde hair and light eyes.
And while some women and girls have some of those attributes. We can't possibly all relate to her.
But because she's all we see, she is what we are programmed to aspire to look like.
So, we buy the makeup, we buy the flat irons and curlers, the high heels, the skincare products.
Then we dye our hair, we get our eyebrows microbladed, tinted, threaded,
wax our legs, underarms, bikini areas, chins, upper lips
LASER OFF OUR HAIR

But that's not enough, apparently.
Because some take it a step further with cosmetic surgery (not to be confused with plastic surgery).
We alter our noses to be smaller, slimmer, with a cute dip in the bridge.
Softer jawlines, with the skin pulled tighter so nothing sags under the chin.
Bigger, plumper lips.
Tummy tucks and liposuction.
Breast enhancements, better known as the sadly-named 'boob job'.
These processes are painful, arduous, bruising the body and sometimes altering bone construction.
All to look like that girl from the magazine.
All to eventually look like the same person.
So, that finally, there is only one kind of woman in the world.
Her.

But, I tell you what.
If you dare to be yourself. If you are brave and have the courage to have a different body and face shape, have a bigger nose, and smaller lips, and smaller breasts, and a different eyebrow shape, rock your natural fresh face/do something new with your makeup, cut your hair short, hell - shave it off completely

stick it to the man ('man' being big corporations, because, let's face it, they're almost entirely owned and run by men anyway)

If you 'do you'
Go against the flow
Stand out by sticking up for women and girls around the world who are all different and all beautiful
Then we win
We all win
Because a victory for one of us is a victory for us all.

No more burning our scalps with hair dye, bruising our bodies with surgeries, making our eyes water with glittery powders, giving ourselves skin cancer to achieve that even, glowy tan, starving ourselves to fit into that size 4 dress, and blistering our feet wearing those uncomfortable shoes that force us to walk slower and sometimes hold onto a man's arm for balance and support.

No more tears shed over magazine with her pasted all over the pages smiling back at you, taunting you with her perfect shiny hair and smooth skin.

We are all beautiful, and we are not the ones who have to change.