Sammy at Percipience alerted me to an article printed in the New York Times Style section yesterday, titled “Is the ‘Mom Job’ Really Necessary?” It’s short and I recommend you jump over there for a few minutes and read the whole thing. My answer to the title’s question is a resounding NO.
The quick synopsis is this: over the last few years, plastic surgeons have begun an advertising campaign directed to mothers of all ages, suggesting that they need and deserve a “mommy makeover” involving a tummy tuck, boob lift, and liposuction. The pitch is that mommy makeovers provide women freedom from embarassment over their post-baby bodies and relieve anxiety about floppy breasts, flabby tummies, and chubby hips that exercise and diet just won’t take care of. The number of these procedures rose 11% in the last year, and it seems that many clients are women in the their forties who are interested in fighting age as well as the “ravages” of pregnancy.
I had to sleep on all of this before writing about it in order to gather my thoughts. The article sent me through the stratosphere.
Lately I’ve found myself agreeing with the idea that the unrealistic demands of western culture for the female body are as much a prison as the required Veil of the east. I don’t at all subscribe to covering up or extreme modesty as the solution to the “problem” of the female body. But, I would argue that the western standards are more devious because the brainwashing to which women are subjected begins in girlhood, as the media shoves down our throats manipulated and impossible versions of super women we’re meant to emulate. There’s no way to even pretend that these standards are realted to spiritual growth, as the Veil may be construed in the east. In fact, I think that if the altar to youth and plastic surgery boom in society meant that people were treating their bodies as play things–as vessels to maniuplate and have fun with, I might have a different opinion about plastic surgery all together.
If we molded and shaped and altered our bodies for pleasure because as a society we decided that was their purpose, because we are not our bodies, I could get into it. If our bodies were the toys and that which cannot be seen–our spirits, our souls–were understood as the real project to cultivate and grow and focus our attention on, I might shout a hip-hip horrah, or at least feel more neutral about the mommy makeover.
But that’s not what’s going on. What’s going on is women are being led along by society from childhood to death to believe that our bodies, no matter what feats of nature they have accomplished–hosted and birthed new life, survived cancer, laughed and loved–are never good enough and need perpetual improvement. I want to live in a society where women are not embarrased by the way their bodies change over time, as they live their lives. Furthermore, I want the lower breasts, pad of belly fat, and thicker thighs that often come with motherhood exalted as the medals of what our bodies have achieved. I want men and more importantly, other women (because nothing changes unless we women decide to push back on the cultural psychology on the subject) to revere the female body as it naturally ages.
All of this is not to suggest that I’m not affected by our appearance-based culture, as I’m sure you’ve gathered in some of my previous posts. Sure, I miss my pre-Pitter boobs a bit. Sure, I feel softer all around. But I also miss my sixteen-year old boobs, and I miss my perfect pre-adolescent zit-free skin. Is it realistic or healthy that I have pangs for my uber-youth, as I forge towards my middle-thirties? Yes. That’s human nature. Also, I might add, that I wasn’t happy with my ten year, sixteen year, or twenty-five year old body, because it wasn’t perfect, is what’s telling about society’s message to us all. I am now choosing to direct my body-obsession-energy against the capitalist culture that tells me I need to do something about it in order to be and feel attractive to myself and others. My anger towards the cult of beauty (aka the cult of youth) only builds as I age, and I challenge myself and you to consider that any of us who chooses plastic surgery as a means towards “fitting in” and “staying young” contributes to the problem and harms our daughters, our sons, and women world wide.
6 comments
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October 5, 2007 at 10:46 am
Mymsie
Amen! How about we give women freedom from embarassment by changing the messages we send and the ridiculous standards to which we aspire. How often do we wear about celeb Moms and their “baby weight.” BARF! Mommies don’t need makeovers – they are beautiful and strong and phenomenal.
October 9, 2007 at 9:35 am
lkrier
Hip hip hooray for you and this post! Let’s all turn our anger against the capitalist structure that only thrives by making people feel inadequate.
October 10, 2007 at 1:13 pm
Amy
I’m sure a lot of us agree completely with your assessment. But when you get right down to it, we’re still in relationships with people who agree in theory and then still balk at the idea of us ever gaining a couple of pounds. How do we effect that transformation with the people around us, and with ourselves? Why do I feel guilty when I gain three pounds and yet I’m healthy, active, and right in the middle of my BMI? All this after having gone to one of those wymyn-celebrating liberal single-sex colleges KNOWN for grads who start Ms. and buck the very trend you are discussing? It’s amazing how entrenched these ideals are even for seemingly strong, healthy women. I hate that I go around agreeing we should love our bodies as they are yet cringe when I get on the scale.
October 10, 2007 at 1:30 pm
westwardbound
Amy, I’m totally with you here–and I hope my own ambivalance about how to handle body image is coming through (esp. in my most recent post). It’s definintely easy for me to preach high standards while I jump through my own set of hoops to feel like I’m attractive enough, etc. in my own skin. I think we just need to keep talking about it, even if it seems like beating a dead horse–especially when we’re faced with new nonsense from “the industry” like these Mommy Makeovers.
November 1, 2007 at 7:34 pm
bianca bean
This post rocks.
November 11, 2008 at 2:41 am
sally volk
This article was very interesting to me. I had a breast augmentation in 1990. I went from an “A” cup to a “C” cup and I still feel inadequate as a woman. In my eyes, todays beauty standard requires up to a 6 inch or higher cleavage for the man of your dreams to love you! Because my A cup ( in my eyes ) was small to begin with, my new breasts were spread apart after my breast augmentation, and i do not have cleavage unless i squeeze them to death with a cleavage boosting
padded bra! I thought after a breast augmentation, I was through with padded bra’s! NO! Today, if you have a breast augmentation, you better have the surgeon stretch those “A” cups to the max! No matter what you’re plastic surgeon says, if you’re brainwashed enough to think that bigger breasts will make you feel more desireable to men, make sure you get the max in a breast implant! Although, it’s scary to think about the problems I may have experienced with larger implants, I wish i would’ve taken the chance. The insecurity I still feel is pretty devistating. Today, cleavage is the name of the game! Because i’ve bought into the media portrayal of what a woman should look like, here is my crazy conclusion: I feel that if i had a couple of Double D’s ( or higher) the man I was with would have no desire to look at another womans boobs because they’re bigger than mine! That is the name of the game, to make your man look at no one else but you!!!!!!!!!!!!! Instead, in my case, if my breasts were bigger, the man i was with would actually LOVE me and I could trust him because he would be more worried about other men looking at my boobs and would never stare at another’s! Ha Ha! How sick is that?
This sick hatred of my body causes alot of turmoil
in my relationships with men, ( No! say it isn’t so!) Because I am a sexual being, (like all women are) having smaller breasts than the media requires to look good, causes me to hate myself so bad that I hate life. I am not easily aroused into having sex with a man. Nothing about life is exciting. Nothing about life is good. Life is a hassle, life is always trying to out-do other women when I am in a relationship with a man. Am I a product of the media? Am I a product of my fathers media influence? I’m sure of it. As a child I saw my father become aroused as he looked at a woman with larger breasts than my mother’s on a family beach outing, he verbalized it behind my mothers back in front of me!. This was my first indication that bigger breasts were more desireable than smaller ones. Was my father a product of media brainwashing? Our culture really does control the SEXUALITY of a woman in the US by portraying an overweight or small breasted female body as non-sexual and a woman who is thin with large breasts as SEXUAL. Is there a happy ending to hating your body or your face? Nothing I’ve read so far makes me satisfied with my body, I hate my body because it does not fit into the mold of the media, I hate my face with the not so perfect smile. Therefore, i hate myself.
Everyday. I’m fifty years old and now my 29 year old daughter wants breast implants. She thinks she will have a more faithful man if she has bigger breasts.