Posts Tagged ‘bears’
The whole Andy Grey, other football man I’d never previously heard of, debacle of a week or so ago, got me thinking about feminism, the struggle for true equality, and how we’re really not there yet.
And then I got distracted by pore strips. They’re really rubbish. Essentially, pore strips are white bits of paper that you stick on your nose. They make you look like you’ve had a nose job whilst you’re wearing them, and they ‘draw out impurities’. ALLEDGEDLY.
They do in fact seem to have drawn out my impurities, from their former comparatively well-hidden location, to the front of my face. Which wasn’t really the effect I was going for when I purchased this product.
Ahh, the things we do for beauty eh? As a single but highly eligible bachelorette (have I mentioned at any point previously in this blog that I’m still single and fast approaching 30? I doubt it), it’s important to maintain a well groomed appearance at all times, just in case an opportunity presents itself for you to ensnare charm a man when you’re least expecting it.
So, recently, I decided to try out several treatments and products that are a step up from my usual arduous beauty regime, which consists of washing my body and face, rarely washing my hair, moisturising, and putting some mascara on. Oh and concealer under my eyes, now that I have permanent dark circles there because I am OLD.
So I tried the pore strips, which made me look spottier. I also did a face mask, which was fun because it made me look like I was in the Black and White Minstrels (but white-ed up instead of blacked up) and smelt of strawberries.
On top of this I subjected myself to a range of other forms of grooming and preening which I won’t go into, because… well, it would be weird.
The question is. Was it all worth it? Do these things actually make a scrap of difference to how you look or do they just make you feel like they make a difference? Is the only difference they really make that they minimally boost your confidence, making you come across as a more ‘attractive’ person?
Probably the latter.
And hey, it’s pretty fun to pamper and preen like a proper girl every so often. But I do wonder about the amount of money some gals (and guys I’m sure) spend regularly on an array of beauty treatments that, no offence ladies, make a minute amount of difference to the way they look.
Nail art, hair extensions, spray tans, eyebrow shaping, teeth whitening – as a one-off I get it, but as a regular thing…
One, how can you be arsed? Two, wouldn’t you rather spend your cash on, you know, doing things? Three, it aint going to make that much difference to your looks. You’ll still be you (unless you have facial surgery) just a less well-off, more looks-conscious version of you.
Because once you start tweaking and changing, I reckon you just want to carry on and find it impossible not to notice more ‘flaws’ and things you could change and ‘improve’ upon.
If anyone’s not seen Channel 4’s Beauty and the Beast, I recommend it. It’s Channel 4’s usual bordering-on-the-exploitative-but-highly-watchable-reality-TV fare and puts together very vain (for which we can read ‘self-conscious’ and actually very sweet, in the case of the first Beauty at least) people with people who have severe facial deformities/scarring and so on.
In the first episode, the Beauty in question makes a breakthrough and dares to bare, leaving the house without her false eyelashes on, but still with full make up and hair extensions of course.
Thing is, her excessive concern for make up and beautifying was all down to trying to distract attention from her really rather ginormous boobs, which men, from smart business types to homeless alcoholics, felt it was more than acceptable to openly leer at and comment on. Her make up and hair was basically saying “talk to my face you ignorant, sexist TWATS”.
And the ironic thing is, a multitude of women out there would consider or have considered paying thousands of pounds and undergoing surgery under general anaesthetic just to have slightly bigger boobs.
Like I said, we’re not quite there yet and sometimes it is hard to be a woman. But I think it’s just hard to be a person, regardless of gender, in this looks-obsessed, materialistic society, that makes you think things are important when they really are of no significance whatsoever.
Right, I’m off to be a hermit and live in a bear cave somewhere.
So, here we are, my very first blog! If you’re as excited about this as I am, and I’d imagine you are, then you may feel the need to let out a little whoop of joy. Go ahead, but I’ll restrain myself to a smug smile and a little pat on the back, I don’t want to peak too early.
Which reminds me of an interesting article I read the other day. (I say interesting, I mean not dull enough to make me poke my own ears out. I don’t read with my ears; the pain would just distract me from reading momentarily.) Anyway, it was about the fact that smiling makes you happy, which is probably the most groundbreaking bit of news I’ve heard since it was revealed that bears do, in fact, shit in the woods, rather than in public lavotories. (If you think you’ve seen a bear in a public toilet, it may have got lost on its way to its favourite dumping spot in the woods, or it may just have been an exceptionally hairy man. You can always inquire verbally, but if it’s a bear it may not answer.)
What’s slightly more interesting however, is the fact that, apparently, random acts of kindness make us unhappy.
Here’s the article for you to have a gander at: http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2009/aug/12/uk-happiness-study
Now, my theory on this is that decent people like to help people, but we also like to receive some sort of gratitude in return, if not a small financial reward or some kind of shiny medal. And, when we don’t, it makes us sad and bitter and generally less happy than we would have been had we just not bloody bothered.
The other day, for example, I asked a blind lady if she needed a hand crossing the road. Was this because I wanted to ensure she was okay or was it because I wanted to feel smug and self-satisfied at my total selflessness? Probably a bit of both. Either way, she didn’t need help as she was waiting for a taxi. I could have offered to help her into the taxi, but that would have been overkill, not to mention fairly patronising, And besides, I had to get to Wilkos to buy some plastic cups and she didn’t look like she was going to give me either a financial award or anything shiny. She didn’t even give me eye contact. I didn’t feel less happy than I had been before though, I was too focused on the cups.
The point is, as Phoebe discovered in Friends, there is rarely such a thing as a selfless act of kindness; there is nearly always an ulterior motive. Which is why small acts of kindness can make us feel unhappy if they’re not met with at least some degree of gratitude, preferably eternal.
My advice would be to go to Wilkos and buy some plastic cups to get over it. At less than 50p for ten (and we’re talking the big ones here, not your common and garden plastic cups) you can’t go wrong, and any unhappiness you do feel will soon be overshadowed by rage as the checkout women completely ignore you and talk to one another.
That’s all for now folks, but tune in again soon for more inappropriate jokes, blowing of my own trumpet and general ranting. I will be blogging regularly as a myriad of small things annoy me, and I like to spread that annoyance far and wide.
Oh and do feel free to comment.