beauty and madness: in the temple of the thigh gap, cankles and finger traps

Ever since I gobbled down  a 20-in-1 pack of chocolates some weeks ago, my breadbasket--this stubborn middle part most "well upholstered" women lug around--has never been the same. Sure I dimly remembered words of caution such as "calories" and "weight" but I waved them away from my intelligent consciousness. I've been working out with the elliptical at 4:30 every damn morning, and eating only a cup of rice every meal for what seemed forever. I deserved a treat. Besides, I was sure the mere violence of my resolve not to put on more weight would terrorize the pounds away. But here I was, a few weeks after, looking into the mirror at a woman seemingly into her 2nd trimester! I tucked in the offending paunch and straightened my spine. Shit. I will soon be in paralysis if I kept at it. I breathed out and decided to let it go. My eyes darted up to my face and--what was that? A deep, thin line was etched from just under my left eye. Was that a new crease? Can a line just grow into your face overnight? Don't mistake me, my lines have become somewhat like the bellyaching of a cranky spouse--irritating at times but comfortably familiar. Also, like the grouchy better half, it can be soothed by pampering, that is, with a few strokes of maybelline clear smooth! But I was running late for work! And that was when I realized I had forgotten to change my high heels for my walking pumps before I left work yesterday (I stash all my working shoes under my desk.). Goddamn. That meant I had to walk in my heels this morning. Whimpering, I slipped into the 3-inch heeled shoes, miserably taking in that they were bright pink, totally at odds with my rags for the day. 

And that did it. I kicked away the torturous wedges, slipped into a pair of thongs, and breezed through my 10-minute walk to work. 

Enough. Truly, these "issues" are getting tiresome. 

I, like many women, want to look good. But my stubborn nature rebel against submitting myself to the traumatic procedures that fashion glossies and beauty shows recommend for a woman to be gorgeous. Not to mention that some concerns are absolutely ridiculous, like for instance, the obsession with a thigh gap. Hankering after a sculpted ass or toned upper arms is not so bad--but a thigh gap! For f's sake, it ranks up there with paying big money to get rid of "cankles"--thick, fat ankles. Surely, these notions of beauty have gone too far! And beauty in whose eyes anyway? Do people really judge you for exceeding the 11-inch average circumference of "slim" ankles? Would it really make you less charming if your thighs show no gap when you stand with your legs together? Would you honestly become breathtaking if you had a bikini bridge-the space between your bikini and your hip bones when you lie down?

I regularly spend a fortune and ten minutes of agony getting my eyebrows shaped by threading. I have endured laser burns to get rid of unsightly swollen oil glands on my face. Does my guy notice the difference before and after? No. He says my face is as much a turn on as usual (well--to him, at least).

What makes one beautiful anyway? Make up? It wears off, you know. An hour-glass figure? Well, that could be nice. Clothes? They make one pleasant-looking at least. The eye of the beholder? It doesn't matter if the beholder is crabby! Bottom line is, I wouldn't even dream of answering that question. All I know is that the concept of beauty sometimes doesn't even have to do with face or figure at all. Or even with other people. Physical "beauty" does not even determine loving at all... or who loves us...or if we'd be truly loved even. 

I slave away at the elliptical now and then because I would feel good every after a workout: I'd smile readily, stride instead of plod, sing instead of sigh. Something to do with blood circulation, I guess (it also keeps the blood pressure and sugar count down!). I wear heels because I can sashay in them more sexily than in flats. I put on eye-liner because I fancy that my eyes sparkle more in them. But I still wolf down blueberry cheesecakes. I still hunt for lechon. I still let my 4:30 AM alarm snooze on if I want to have a lie in. And although my inner arms no longer play flappy bird as much, I still have a muffin top and zero thigh gap. And I'm just fine and dandy with that! It helps to accept one's own assets and flaws, I think.

Now, would that make one beautiful? Maybe it's time to try the "finger trap test" which is the new dumb-blonde craze in social media. The finger trap test is also known as "beauty and ugliness identification method", a.k.a. "the latest mindless trend designed to make everybody take more selfies". Here's the rationale: if you are able to place your index finger against your nose and have your lips touch that finger at the same time, you are beautiful. If your lips don't make contact with your finger, you are ugly.

Go google it and see if I'm making this up.