Tag Archives: Christmas

Picture Perfect.

By Posted in Beauty, Body Image, On the Net Tagged , , , , , , , , , , 11 Comments

 

From “No Refuge: How Webcams & Cell Phones Ratchet Up the Pressure to be Perfect” by Hugo Schwyzer:

“… A young woman who had been scrupulous about her appearance all day could return to her bedroom at night, change into what was comfortable, and have at least a little waking time where her looks didn’t matter…

“The real problem is that the webcam has stripped the bedroom and the bathroom from their role as safe refuge from the beauty-obsessed culture…”

I find Schwyzer’s points to be particularly poignant to my own life.

Until a few months ago, I had lived either at home, with family who knew me from the day I was born and had seen me in all my glory (and not-so-glorious moments) for twenty-two years, or on my own. During that time, as soon as I would get home I’d change into my pyjamas, wipe the makeup off, and pop the curlers in, not caring what I looked like.

Then I moved in with my cousin, and I kept up appearances for a few days until I realised she likes to bum around the house in holey pants and nose strips, too.

Honestly, I don’t give a crap what I look like at home, and if I don’t want to draw attention to myself, I will adopt my at-home strategy in the big wide world, too.

For example, most mornings I go for a jog as soon as I wake, and usually stop by the supermarket on the way home. I chuck a bit of lipgloss on an whip my hair (though not in true Willow Smith style) into a ponytail, but other than that, I look pretty crappy. If I wanted to be stared at while I exercised, I would go to a juice-head gym in full make-up and a crop top or jog with my friend Tess at her neighbourhood track, where the beautiful people go to workout. But I don’t.

A similar situation occurred at my work Christmas party. I was getting my slut on when I was approached by Jack Sparrow. He initiated contact (both verbal and physical), asking which department I worked in and why he’d never seen me before. Unbeknownst to him, he had seen me before…

… Earlier that day, I rocked up for a few hours to help set up in jeans, a t-shirt, work boots (okay, they were Tony Bianco) and my glasses, where he was also lending a hand. He took one glance at me and continued with his work.

What’s even funnier? The following day I reverted back to my bespectacled self, and he went about his day, not realising that I was the girl from the night before.

I don’t begrudge him that, though. I deliberately do these things to fly under (or above) the radar.

Relating more closely to Schwyzer’s point, however, I’m lucky; my generation managed to bypass the whole webcam/sexting/profile pictured frenzy that consumes the lives of teens now. Who knows what pressures I would have faced—and how differently my psyche would have developed—if my privacy was constantly invaded by mobile phones, Facebook and the like?

Celebrities who are a little younger than I am, though, like Rihanna, Vanessa Hudgens and (the markedly younger) Miley Cyrus have succumbed to the allure of naked photography, with the latter also dabbling in the filming of lap dances to 40-year-old directors and experimentation with bongs.

Personally, I don’t understand the pull of compromising photos. My advice to teen starlets and football players alike? If you’re going to take compromising photos, make sure you’re the only one with a copy or JUST. DELETE. THEM.

Related: ’Tis the Season…

Elsewhere: [Hugo Schwyzer] No Refuge: How Webcams & Cell Phones Ratchet Up the Pressure to be Perfect.

The Perils of Living with the Parentals.

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I’m writing this after spending five nights over Christmas at my mum’s place; the home I moved out of eleven months ago.

It’s no secret that our mother-daughter relationship was strained in the final years of me paying board, and at sporadic intervals over the past year, so I approached this Christmas with some trepidation.

But I was oh-so-pleasantly surprised that there were no major arguments or fights (like last Christmas… and the Christmas before that, come to think of it!), and I found myself wanting to spend time at the family home, as opposed to only being there to sleep, eat and catch up on my TV shows, as was the case in the few months before I moved out.

MamaMia had a post up a few weeks ago from site contributor Lucy Ormonde, who is 23and still lives at home. Ormonde detailed the benefits of living at home, such as a free laundry service, lower rent/board costs and the comforts of having your family around.

Well I’m here to rebut those comments, listing my top five reasons for leaving…:

1. I needed some “me” time (long-time readers of this blog will know how important that is to me), without parents hounding me to hang out my washing or sisters yelling at me to turn my TV down. Now I hang out my damn washing when I can be bothered, and have to TV as loud as my heart ears desire (see above).

2. Independence. I’m quite an independent, solitary person by nature, and whilst living alone is hard fiscally, it helped me gain financial independence that I otherwise might not have.

3. Overstaying my welcome. While Ormonde is 23 and her living arrangement with her parents is still going strong, I feel I overstayed my welcome about two or three years. While I was not ready to go out into the big, wide world and fend for myself, my mum felt that I was, and that caused friction.

4. I’d been studying and working in Melbourne for four years before I made the move here from country Victoria, so it only made sense. It was also one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

5. Cutting the apron strings. In this day and age, the apron strings are cut much later in life, as about half of my good friends would attest to. The other half would probably default to the rest of the points on this list as reasons for severing their family ties.

… and those for loving living out of home:

1. Doing what I want, when I want.

2. Developing my own decorating style, as opposed to working within the limits of my mother’s.

3. Having parties, board game nights and as many people stay over after a big night out as I want (or as many as my sofa arrangement will allow).

4. Getting up as early as I want to vacuum, make smoothies or watch morning television. Most normal people would say “sleeping as late as I want”, but since I grew out of the sleeping-til-1pm phase in high school, I’ve been an early riser. Now I can do noisy things in the morning without risking the wrath of late sleepers.

5. Taking the next step. A study in the New York Times lists “completing school, leaving home, becoming financially independent, marrying and having a child” as the milestones of “emerging adulthood”. Well I’ve achieved three of the five, so now I just need to get married and pop out some babies. Although, getting a boyfriend first might help…

Related: The 10 Commandments of Work/Life Balance.

Elsewhere: [MamaMia] I’m 23, I Live At Home & Here’s Why.

[The New York Times] What is it About 20-Somethings?

’Tis the Season…

By Posted in Feminism Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 9 Comments

… for office Christmas parties.

As opposed to the boring lunches a few of my friends have mentioned their workplaces hold, my employer happens to go all out on the Christmas party front.

Last year’s theme was horror (odd for that time of the year, I know), and I came up with a Bride of Chucky costume, complete with doll. However, I was struck down with the flu a few days beforehand and was unable to attend. The fact they had a dance instructor teaching partygoers “Thriller” just added insult to injury.

This year, however, the theme is pirates.

As a member of the planning committee, I fought tirelessly (and by I, I mean my friend Laura, as I was in the midst of a wisdom-tooth haze when the theme was being chosen) to push through our original idea of cartoons, and failing that, 1920s/’30s swing.

Unfortunately, misogyny won out, and a pirate theme it was.

Talk about unoriginality, though. There are about three options of pirates in popular culture to use as a reference point: Pirates of the Caribbean (how many Jack Sparrow-wannabe’s but could-never-be’s will there be walking around?), Pirates of Penzance, and Peter Pan. If someone were to really think outside the box, they could get a party of five (pardon the pun) or six together and go as The Wiggles and Dorothy the Dinosaur, with Captain Feathersword as the MVP of the group.

Notice that these three ensembles have very limited roles for women. And as a workplace that employs just as many women as men, pirates is very limiting to the fairer sex.

Serendipitously, I happened to happen upon a three-year-old post by Rachel Hills discussing exactly this.

“‘I didn’t realise the boys were meant to come as pirates and the girls were meant to come as skanks,’” Hills’ friend laments at a pirate-themed party.

My point exactly; pirates is all well and good for men who are young-at-heart, and men who perhaps want to get their gear off and go shirtless, and men in general, but women are faced with exactly two options: slutty pirate or slutty wench.

Now I’ve got some co-workers who are happy to go as more masculine pirates. (One friend, Lana, sent me a picture the other day of her costume, and you can hardly tell it’s her and she looks great.) I haven’t come across many friends who are going as wenches, which may be a testament to my own views (and thus the changing views of society?) on the topic, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be plenty of buxom babes letting the stress of the year off their chests. In what was a poignant throwback-forward, perhaps, from my friend and former co-worker Tess, she came dressed as a pirate for my Halloween-themed birthday party this year, and managed to retain her dignity.

Sure, wenches are traditionally slutty by name and by nature, as noted in the comments of Hills’ abovementioned article, but that’s not the problem I have with them.

I’m the first to put my hand up (whilst simultaneously holding my skirt down) to embrace my inner sartorial slut when it comes to hitting the town (Hello?! Have you seen my Halloween costume?), and while I will not be attending my Christmas party as a wench, there will still be a hefty dose of slut in my outfit (pictures to come next week).

The problem I have with the limiting theme is that there is no room for originality or diversity, particularly for the female members of the payroll. It’s one slut fits all.

Related: The Witching Hour: Halloween/My Birthday at Witches in Britches Cabaret.

Elsewhere: [Musings of an Inappropriate Woman] Attractive = Hot = Not Much Clothing On?

[Rabbit White] In Defence of Slut-O-Ween.

[Rabbit White] Defence of Slut-O-Ween II: Straight People’s Pride?

[The Stranger] Happy Heteroween.