The Damage of Child Beauty Pageants

Riot.Jane

This is the first time I've seen a non-hysterical critique of the phenomenon of child beauty pageants.  Most of the time it seems like it's moon-bat crazy people throwing tantrums either for or against the concept. 

In this blog post Mary Jo Rapini, LPC discusses whether it's the contestant or the parent that is actually benefiting from the pageant experience.  She also suggests better ways to help children learn the lessons they need to be successful people than crawling the beauty pageant circuit.

Beauty Pageants For Toddlers; Who Are They For?

PC Air Adds Kathoey to Cabin Crews

Riot.Jane

I've been fascinated for years by the societal phenomenon of the kathoey (or ladyboy) of Thailand.  The kathoey are men who live as women within their own society.

The kathoey generally pass very well (as snapshots show) partially due to the diminutive size of many Thai males, partially due to inexpensive sexual-reassignment surgery, and partially because of sheer determination.

Critiquing "Feminist" Marketing (Part 3)

In the previous posts Critiquing "Feminist" Marketing (Part 1) and Critiquing "Feminist" Marketing (Part 2), we discussed changes in and repercussions of mass media's co-opt of the "feminist" message, and we examined the overt versus subliminal concepts inherent in each.  Now we move into the realm of why these subliminal messages find fertile ground within our minds.

Our eyes are our windows to the world.  They're what helps our unconscious determine what is real and what is not.  They show us our tribe, connect us to the people we love, respect, and hate, and they help us find our place within that social order.  Now that we've moved beyond 100-person villages -- Who is our tribe, and how do we know them?

We now have virtual tribes composed of real, physical humans and the virtual people that mass media brings within our personal sphere.  We see the same newscasters every morning and every night, we see and hear the same television and radio hosts over and over, and we are bombarded by model hawkers constantly.  At a certain point, our brains begin to subliminally incorporate these people into our tribe.

Critiquing "Feminist" Marketing (Part 2)

In the previous post Critiquing "Feminist" Marketing (Part 1), we compared the messages between a current Verizon ad and a Nike ad from the mid-'90s.  While the overt messages inherent in ads that speak to women have changed over the years, so have the subliminal ones. Recent years have brought us more modern interpretations of the female experience, including its lice-ridden underbelly.

In the mid '00s, Dove began the "Campaign for Real Beauty".  Early in the campaign, the FCC banned this "Pro-Age" ad because it apparently didn't conform to FCC regulations:

Holey rusted door, Batgirl!  We have Victoria's Secret models parading their perfect bodies on stage, we have scantily-clad cheerleaders gyrating at every profession sporting event, and we have teen pop stars wiggling their advocation of adult sexuality to preteens, but Christ forbid that normal, older, fig-leafed women be visible on television.  Ever.

Never mind that these older women are more "covered" than said models, cheerleaders, or pop-stars, and never mind that these older women are not parading, gyrating, or wiggling.  Just know that a woman over the age of 25 who shows more than 8 square inches of exposed non-face, non-hand skin is so patently offensive to the US public that complaints provoked the FCC to use the grey areas in their guidelines to ban said ad.

What wasn't banned was the "Evolution" ad, and it's actually my favorite:

Even without the digital trickery, I'd look like a supermodel, too, if I had a team of hair and make-up professionals at my side every morning!  While digesting this ad, considering it's wider implications, I held my breath waiting to see what was next.

Supplementing the "Evolution" ad, consider another mid-'00s video in which a digital artist transforms a normal-looking woman into a glamorous goddess thanks to the wonders of Photoshop (sorry for the pop-up ad on the video, just click the [x]):

I am particularly fond of the instant weight-loss and skin perfection.  The hair extensions are a nice touch as well.  Doubleplusgood on the removal of the spectacles.  Compare the two pictures, and you could be forgiven for thinking that these women are sisters instead of the same person.  Of particular angst to me is that the creator/poster of this video had so many requests for same that she posted links to tutorials showing aspiring digital artists how to accomplish these same tricks and pointed out where the eyelash brush can be downloaded.  Instead of outrage, worship? Kill me.

In the next post we move further into why and how the cultural programming of impossible beauty standards works and the effects of same.

~Riot.Jane

Critiquing "Feminist" Marketing (Part 1)

The messages inherent in the ads that speak to women have changed over the years.  While we do still have plenty of housewifely cleaning product ads, recent years have seen more modern interpretations of the female experience. Some have been spectacular, but others could use some help.

Let's start with Verizon's current "Rule the Air" ad:

What bothers me about this ad is the overall impression that Verizon is trying to ride the Third-Wave Feminist train to Shangri-La.  Every young female in this ad is picture-perfect, and all but one has long dark hair.  These girls all look the same, and they're from/in wealthy environments with the world at their feet. Platitudes abound, and the weight of thousands of years of Western culture is absent.  The only two females of color are the ones who speak about "prejudice" and whether or not she is "white," and that bothers me.

Classism  is ignored for sexism, and in this world simply having an above-average IQ and a Verizon cell will allow you to shirk the bonds of femininity. As an anthropologist friend of mine said, "The air is free as long as you can pay for it."  Verizon's motto here, "Rule the Air", is, more accurately in my mind, "Rule, my ass."

Compare the Verizon ad above to this classic Nike advertisement from the mid-'90s:

This ad has quite a bit to say, and it effectively says it.  Girls are important, and girls sports are important -- just as important as boys and boys sports.  At a time when challenges to, and increased enforcement of, Title IX (regarding unsubstantial or nonexistent female sports programs) were both vying for the soul of the nation, this ad was instrumental in changing public sentiment.  Even if you didn't buy these shoes, the message stayed with you and helped change our culture.  While a friend of mine has argued that Nike has since lost whatever soul it once had, this video was, in its time, a paragon of social conscience.

In the next post we move from substantive social commentary in media marketing to the programming of impossible beauty ideals.

~Riot.Jane

Cosmo's Weird "Untamed Va-jay-jays" Cover

Lolly.Jane snapped this picture in the checkout line at a grocrery store and kicked it my way with the Subject line "untamed WHAT?!?!?!?":

(As if women need another negative message about our nether-regions! >sigh<)

As soon as I saw the cover, I asked, "You didn't happen to thumb through it and see what that headline is about, did you?"

"No," she responded, "I was already holding up the line."  That's the Lolly.Jane I know so well . . . Terribly polite and considerate.

I went to the pharmacy to refill prescriptions and was lucky enough to find this issue while waiting.  The Table of Contents doesn't mention anything that relates to this headline.  A search of the Cosmo website for the headline comes up empty. Odd.

Put a headline like that on the cover of your magazine, then not match it in the Table of Contents?  Trying to get me to buy the magazine?  Fail.

Sooooooo, I'm forced to come up with my own definition of "untamed va-jay-jays":

Okay, maybe my interpretation is better described as "rampaging" (vs."untamed"), but this really is the picture that popped into my mind when I read that headline. 

What popped into yours?

~Riot.Jane

Choosing to Grow Young

I choose to grow young, not old.

I've been intrigued with, attracted to and dating men considerably younger than myself for a quarter of a century. Twenty five years ago the stigma was much more intense than it is now. In my mid-fifties, when I told my mother I was dating a man 20 years my junior, she had a cow! I learned to never bring the subject up with her again.

Back in the day, we had no terminology, catchphrases or labels. We were simply older women who were drawn to younger men. I broach the subject in my book,  Sexy In Your 60s, How You Can Naturally Reverse The Aging Process & Rejuvenate Your Life, and blog, www.SexyInYour60s.com, which focus on the health of our body, mind and spirit. I share with others, women especially, what's hindered and helped me over the years, things that keep me young at heart and reversing the aging process.

What can I say? I'm a woman who chooses to grow young, not old. My lust for life attracts younger men and that doesn't seem to be waning with age. Quite the opposite. The older I get the more curious they are. They pick my mind, sometimes I feel like Dear Abby. Recently I joined some Cougar/Cub sites to get a finger on the pulse. I've belonged to other date sites and always draw younger men, but not sites that are subject specific. The resounding welcome and dialogue has been fascinating and prompted me to do some research and writing of my own.

The so-called Cougar/Cub phenomenon as many know, is not new. In my book I explore the goddess cultures, go back thousands of years and guess what? Younger men and older women were an item then just as they are now. Regardless, I'm having a difficult time calling myself a Cougar. This excerpt speaks for me:

Not one to embrace the ‘Cougar’ image, I find the explanation confining and not in keeping with a truly seasoned woman, a crone. Ego need not play a part and while every woman reaps the rewards of honoring her body, the body needn’t be the sole reason to attract men, men of any age. Nor do I adhere to the inference that older women are always on the prowl, not able or interested in long term relationships. I believe that women have choices and to categorize us is counter-productive.

A crone is a woman in her third phase of life; maiden/virgin, mother, crone. A postmenopausal woman. I use the book as a platform because the crone stage is the most astounding, powerful, time of a woman's life. According to the ancients, the crone comes into her mastery on all levels including her sexual mastery. Such a hush-hush taboo subject; older women and sexuality. My friend and mentor, Dr. Linda Savage, was instrumental in awakening me to this part of myself. Her expertise flows all through my book. Savage's book, Reclaiming Goddess Sexuality:The Power of the Feminine Way takes us back into history and reminds us the ancient woman-positive cultures have a message about sexuality  that we can learn from today.

On the Internet I found amazing forward-thinking women who have websites and blogs that depict their take on the Cougar/Cub movement. Dr. Fayr Barkley, CEO of www.CougarInternational.com caught my attention with her empowering and informative articles. Dr. Fayr mirrors my old school/young school mindset. She brings into focus those things that serve us and points out those that don't. She does women and men a great service by acting as a role model that speaks to the awesomeness of womanhood. I've become one of her biggest fans and am an active participant on her website.

Another woman, Linda Franklin, her website  www.TheRealCougarWoman.com , and  author of  
Don't Ever Call Me Ma'am, impressed me with her life experiences. She too is empowering women and mirrors my opinion that regardless of our age, we are never too old to try or do something different. No one could have told me I would publish my first book at 64, or, for that matte,r speak out about my lifestyle as it pertains to younger men. Like Ms. Franklin, I encourage women to reach for their dreams and not let social dogma get in their way.

Dawn Marie Ellison, founder of www.CougarandtheCub.com, caught my attention. She sees the cougar/cub relationship as "a spiritual, emotional and sensual connection and not merely sexual." Ellison's comment speaks worlds. The ancient cultures teach  the balance of the sexual and the spiritual. In Pagan Society there was no rift between Spirituality and Sex.  Both were seen as true and vital forces, dancing in beautiful symmetry.


Regardless what we choose to call ourselves; kittens, pumas, cougars, cleos or just women, the key to it all is to stand as role models for the young people, acting responsibly and with integrity. The reality show mindset the media sells our children and grandchildren doesn't always represent the positive side of life. Much of it is based on dysfunctional conditioning that doesn't serve anyone.  It's up to us as women, cougars or not, to set the bar for those who learn from our actions; the children.

~ Joan M Bunney
   Author, Speaker, Advocate for Social Change
   www.sexyinyour60s.com

Hattie Slams Howard Stern on His Own Show!

I wanted to keep you abreast to my encounter with Howard Stern – just in case you had not heard…

Let’s go back a bit…

For months, I’d been telling people, “One of these days I’m gonna be topless on the Howard Stern Show!” I figured that being on the show would encourage other women to follow in my tracks.

Hattie RetroAge

Brazenly proclaiming what fun that would be– with strategically placed pixels, of course, I joshed, “Someone’s gotta do it…and thank God, that someone is me!”
 Tired of society’s view that being a sexy senior is a curiosity to sniggle at, I decided to show the world that this “old broad” was living life according to her desires and having sex with men half her age!

Well, my prophesy came true:

One of Howard’s producers was member of my Health Club. I asked the enrollment manager to pitch an appearance for me, and I got booked for the following week.

My decision to appear was filled with both vanity and valor. Vain because I was exhibiting my breasts like a go-go dancer and valiant because I knew I would be teased, insulted, and even laughed at. Nevertheless, this was my opportunity to get my RetroAge® message across. Knowing that I would be inspiring women to be powerful, sexual and beautiful made me impervious to any derision. Besides I knew it would be great fun!

Briskly entering the studio, I let Howard know he wasn’t dealing with your typical “old hag,” as he had been referring to me all morning on the air. In an attempt to taunt me, he leered, “It’s really disgusting for old women to sleep with young guys.”

Here was my chance to best him at his own game.

“You know, Howard, when an old guy sleeps with a woman young enough to be his daughter, society respects and reveres him. But just let an old woman sleep with young guys, and society reacts like she’s sick and disgusting.”

Then, strategically dropping my melodramatic delivery, I leaned toward him, smiled, and slowly added, “Well, Howard…

     MAJOR PAUSE…

I’m sick and disgusting!”

This unexpected comeback rendered him uncharacteristically contrite, “Okay. Hattie, you are good looking, but you’re much too old for me,” whereupon his sidekick Robin Quivers shot back, “And you’re too old for her, Howard!”

Howard Stern

Everyone in the studio cracked up.

Possibly to save face, Howard summoned the producers and engineers from the control room, asking them one by one if they would fuck me. To a man, they replied, “You bet we would!”

Then he jabbed, “Are your teeth real?”

“Everything’s real,” I replied, coyly playing with the bejeweled collar of my desgner jacket. The shock jock looked down at his notes and, almost as a dare, said “It says here that you’re going to take your top off. Is that true?”

“Yes, it is,” I replied, calmly removing my jacket. I was determined to get as much mileage as I could out of this TV appearance. I knew that the network would cover my breasts with pixels, so I wasn’t completely exposing myself… and it would be years before my grandchildren would see a tape.

Perhaps I didn’t alter Howard’s oft-uttered repulsion for older women, but It certainly gave the TV audience a good look at a senior who hasn’t chosen to been cut, stitched or injected to be sexy.

It made for a wild show that was aired three times.

Not bad for an “old hag.”

What can I say… he got the breast of me…

~Hattie RetroAge

Introducing Joan M Bunney: Couger Advocating Change

Joan M Bunney

We recently wrote about how we met and will shortly be introducing the work of Hattie Retroage here at TJP.  When we initially contacted and introduced TJP to Hattie, we had no way of knowing that she would distribute our self-written letter of introduction to a like-minded woman and author Joan M Bunney.  Joan promptly contacted us:

Dear Jane:

I am a friend of Hattie Retro-age, and like her, choose to reverse the aging process naturally, no chemicals or toxins allowed in or on my body.

I'm also an advocate for social change and speak out on relevant issues all having to do with the children's well being. Born in 1945 I've watched this health epidemic of the body and mind happen over the decades.

I wrote a book, Sexy InYour60s, to share with others, women especially, what I've learned and applied and why I'm growing young not old; a new mindset.

I've been to your website and would love to contribute, be a part of your blog. The 'older' I get the more relevant the subject matter. The elder woman is stepping forward to share accrued wisdom that will help to make change happen.

I've attached my media bio, my Sexy In Your 60s website that holds my book and journey thus far. I am just beginning the second half of life. The ancient goddess cultures tell us the seasoned woman is in her mastery at this stage of life. My purpose is to awaken women of all ages to this truth by using myself, much as Hattie does, as a live testimonial.

About to launch a new website, AgelessCougar.com to celebrate the cougar woman rather than demean her. Like Hattie, I've been attracted to and dating younger men for a quarter century. The website in part will dissuade the naysayers and the bad press. The rewards of aging are endless. ...

Best regards,

Joan M Bunney
Author, Speaker, Advocate for Social Change
JoanBunney@hotmail.com
http://www.sexyinyour60s.com/

Joan and the admins have corresponded in more depth since receiving her initial e-mail, and we're quite pleased to introduce Joan to TJP!

We are excited to see her work and grow from her contributions. 

~Riot.Jane

Meeting Hattie RetroAge: Cougar Extroardinaire

I watched an episode of TLC series {Strange}SEX for the very first time last week.  The particular episode I saw was about "cougars", or older women who date younger men (the show defined it specifically as women aged 40+ who pursue men at least 8 years their junior).

Hattie RetroAge



In this episode, viewers get to know 73 year old Hattie RetroAge, a woman who lives, loves, laughs, and has sex freely.  She's a divorced mother who, upon her divorce in her late 40s, picked her life up from the point in her early 20s at which she married.  She posts completely accurate internet personals and receives 30-50 responses whenever she does.  w00t!



There are more men out there wanting to date older women than I thought. Since she's long past the stage of wanting a wedding ring and children, she's a great prospect to men who are avoiding that type of situation. Add to this that she was a professional dancer and has remained active and in excellent shape, and the Hattie picture becomes more clear. w00t!

In the episode I watched, we get to know Hattie, her adult son, and 33 year old Ron. By the end of the episode, Hattie and Ron will have gone on their first date together. The date seemed to go well; they seemed to hit it off, and the viewer is left with the thought that they will see each other again. w00t!

I'm normally not into "reality tv," but this series seems to be done in a documentary style that wasn't nearly as prurient as the topic matter would indicate. I realized that Hattie would make a wonderful addition to TJP, so I Googled her, found her e-mail address, and sent her an e-mail in which I praised her for being true to herself, introduced TJP, and asked her to consider reading and/or contributing.

Hattie's response arrived overnight:

It was an honor to receive your lavish praise, thank you.

It is as shocking to me as it may be for others to view a women in her 70's, without surgery or shots or hormone replacement, emerge as a sex object! To understand how this happened I reviewed my past involvements: In the 60's I wrote the first Organic Certification Form in America! So individual respendent health has been my focus for decades. Add to that my years as a dance teacher to pre-schoolers. They imparted a spirit that is implanted in my marrow. And...I love expressing love. (often referred to as sex!)

At this point I am involved in creating a paying career to carry me thorugh the next 20 years! I had been working as a healer, however my body developed fibromyalgia and arthritis, so I had to re-create a life as a writer/speaker on exquisite aging. ... The career of my choice is to be a newscaster with a regular spot to discuss issues of aging. If you have any contacts that could help me achieve this, I would be infinitely grateful.

Keep it up, dear Jane,

Hattie

hattie@hattieretroage.com
http://www.holisticallyhattie.com/
http://www.bestcruisesandtravelnow.com/ (sponsoring my THE EMPOWERED WOMAN CRUISE in January)

Hattie has already published three books available on Amazon and has agreed to contribute some of her previous and future work to TJP.  If any of you have any contacts for Hattie, please comment!

I can't wait to see Hattie's work!

~Riot.Jane

Urban Outfitters Sells Pro-Anorexia T-Shirt

Urban Outfitters T-Shirt

Even I was surprised at the intensity of my reaction to the Urban Outfitters "Eat Less" t-shirt. 

Just seeing it nauseates me, and I'm the girl with a collection of intentionally-offensive t-shirts. 

I saw the shirt and this write-up two months ago, and it still makes me insensible to the point that I can't even coherently write about it.

Regardless of what Urban Outfitters says about this product or the public reaction to it, the fact that the filename includes the word "anoreixic" indicates someone, somewhere in their organization understood the message. The photographer certainly did -- Yet another listless, starving model in clothes that make her look even younger and sicker than she probably is.

I've dug around, and I can't find a response from Urban Outfitters even at this late date.  All I can find is that they've pulled the shirt from their online store but not from their stores.

Since I'm beginning to Taz out again just thinking about it, I'll just share it with you, hoping to provoke conversation.

Am I just hyper-sensitive, or is this thing really as sick as I think it is?

~Riot.Jane

Video: "Women's Issues"

Discovered on YouTube, this video's creator xEmiAtrophyx says:

      This is a TV ad I made for a project that was assigned in my graphic art class. We had to choose a world issue and make an organization that raises awareness about it. My partner and I chose Women's Issues, and for this ad, we focused on eating disorders, and the affects childhood toys have on some girls.

~Riot.Jane
   

Ralph Lauren Ad: Wrong on So Many Levels

Greetings to the Ladies Jane!

Today I've stubled upon an odd intersection of feminism and digital rights to share with all of you. My two favorite subjects, rolled into an unlikely bitter pill. This doesn't happen often, so I'm going to enjoy it!

The Ralph Lauren Blue Label ad to the right was originally posted (and commented upon) at the PhotoShop Disasters blog. Apparently, Ralph Lauren objected to said activities and issued a bogus DMCA takedown notice ("bogus" because Fair Use includes criticism).

Since Blogger's policies include automatic removal of content subject to any in/valid DMCA takedown notice, the PhotoShop Disasters post disappeared.

The Streisand Effect immediately came into play, and that's how the outraged feminist in me stumbled upon this advertisement glorifying a soul-crushingly unobtainable female body shape. Thank God for the Streisand Effect, otherwise I would have missed my weekly dose of self-righteous indignation! >only slight hyperbole<
Yes, Blogger also happens to host TJP. As a result, the picture you see to the right is actually residing on a TechDirt server. In fact, because of Blogger's policy to remove any subject of an in/valid DMCA takedown request, all pictures in this post are actually links to files residing on servers that in no way belong to me. I hope those server owners will forgive my poor digital manners because I'm doing this to both prove a point and keep this post alive, not to suck their bandwith.

As for the myriad issues with the advertisement itself, suffice it to say that this is a knuckle-dragging step backwards from the news of recent years that indicates a glacially changing (but changing!) international perspective among swimwear designers, magazine editors, runway model organizers, clothing designers, and a portion of the French fashion industry in the unconscionably thin body types displayed by these industries during the entirety of my lifetime.

Of particular interest is the case of Crystal Renn. In her book Hungry: A Young Model's Story of Appetite, Ambition, and The Ultimate Embrace of Curves, she discusses the experience of having lost 70 lbs to land a $250K modeling contract while still in high school. Suffice it to say that while she had that $250K contract, she looked like this:

Eventually, surviving on "lettuce with a side of batshit" caused a break. One day, "something snapped," leading her to quit her agency and move to the Plus Size division of Ford Models. She now shoots fashion campaigns for the likes of Jean Paul Gaultier, Dolce & Gabbana, and UK clothing chain Evans. This is what Renn looks like today -- Healthy, happy, and the most successful American plus-sized model:

You can read more about Renn's experience and book here and here.

Posting this recent picture of Renn brings into focus the sharp contrast between it and the monstrous Ralph Lauren ad above. I've studied design at an undergrad level, so I can usually figure out what ads that fail were trying to accomplish, who their target market was, even if they missed that target. This ad that someone intentionally altered to glorify an impossible-to-achieve crack-whore/cancer-patient silhouette simply baffles me from a design perspective. I can't figure out their target market except to know with utter conviction that I was not part of it. Because of this atrocious ad, I will never, ever purchase anything from the label, even as a gift.

Note to Ralph Lauren: When your model's head appears larger than her pelvis, you have created a side-show freak, not an attractive living mannequin for your clothes, so you might want to reconsider the message your freak is sending about your product.

Renn is a realistically-shaped, realistically beautiful woman. She looks like someone that I might befriend, someone that high school girls who aspire to be models (like she once was) might one day become. The fact that this woman is considered "plus size" (just look at her!) astounds me.

Renn is the archetypal beautiful, healthy woman. She is what we need to be portraying as beautiful and glamorous to not only our girls but to the never-good-enough half of the adult population that is female. If we're to ever win the fight for the hearts, minds, and souls of our females, we have to practice what we preach, live what we speak, and further what we write.

That we cannot discuss an advertisement (with legal digital supporting material) that doesn't further a corporation's monetary aims without legal bullying (I am looking at you, Ralph Lauren) and without the recourse the law provides (I'm looking at you, Blogger) is a powerful statement about who has the power in this country.

I, for one, do not generally believe that just because Big Money always has the power that it is always right. I, in fact, believe that in the vast majority of cases, the power that Big Money wields is morally (if not legally) wrong. In this case, it is both. Releasing that ad was morally wrong, and submitting a bogus DMCA takedown notice was legally wrong. Since Blogger is complicit in the injustice, PhotoShopDisasters cannot fight back.

We can. Just a little, but we can.

Comment on this post. Tell us how you feel. Drive traffic to this post. E-mail it to everyone you know. Post about it in other blogs that have audiences that care either about women's issues or digital rights, or both. Write a letter to Ralph Lauren, include a copy of the ad. Write about how their ad affects you, personally; women, as a group; and us, as a culture. Write about how their ad is a throwback to an earlier time, and how shamed they should feel. Talk to people: About Crystal Renn, about the small changes we've been seeing in the perspective in the fasion world, about the importance of actual humans as the people we see, not painted stick figures that couldn't possibly be alive. Demand that companies that sell the products you buy use advertising that features people who look like people who could actually exist.

Read. Write. Talk. Demand. Change begins with us.

~Riot.Jane

Ralph Lauren ad: TechDirt
Crystal Renn then: The Sun
Crystal Renn now: The Sun

Hair Coloring & a Likely New Use for Chapstick

My current psychology is evident in my hair. It grows longer and then I hack it off with seasonal frequency. Every few months or so I color my hair from a drugstore box of dye. I'm an old pro at dying my own hair, short or long, having done it with varying frequency since I was 14. Some years I'd do it every four-to-six weeks for root touch-ups, other years it would be dramatic color changes every few months.

In high school, my friends called me "Jane of the rainbow hair" because I had below-the-shoulder hair and wouldn't always focus on full-coverage during dramatic color changes. I called my sometimes four-color streaking "trailer highlights." Eventually I cut it all off and died the stubble platinum blonde. I bust out laughing now when I think of it.

Today I colored my hair again. Since I was going darker instead of lighter, I knew I was going to have to circle my hairline and cover my ears with Vaseline so that my skin wouldn't stain. My main irritation with using Vaseline is that it's a bitch to wash off -- I sometimes have to resort to dishwashing liquid to cut through it if I use too much (and I usually use too much because I've seen other women who stained their skin, and it just looks nasty). Needless to say, my face, ears, and neck do not respond well to dishwashing liquid.

The other irritation about using Vaseline is that, when I try to put it around my ears and the sides/back of my neck (i.e. places I can't see), it's difficult to get the Vaseline right up to the hairline and not on the hair. I've screwed it up both ways in the past -- I've had both lines of skin staining and lines of undyed hair around my hairline. Neither is great, but at least I can dye my hair again to fix the undyed hair.

When I bought my box of dye this time, I saw a new product. Called +Repelle, it bills itself as a product that keeps skin-staining from occurring and is very easy to wash off. It was in a small tube, and the instructions were straightforward: Apply it around your hairline and on your ears, color your hair, and wash it off when you wash out the dye. The cost? $5.00 @ CVS. I bought it.

The +Repelle worked as advertised: Easy to apply, easy to wash off, no skin staining.

While I was applying the +Repelle, the idea that it applied like a soft Chapstick occurred to me. That makes sense -- Vaseline, Chapstick, and +Repelle are made of the same sort of stuff (as far as my hair-coloring needs go). I'll use the rest of the stick of +Repelle, and after it's gone, I'll try normal Chapstick heated in a glass of hot water.

After all, a stick of Chapstick is a lot cheaper than +Repelle. :-)

I'm really proud of this find, and I'd love to know about yours. Do you have any tricks, tips, or alternate uses for common items?

~Riot.Jane

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A Perspective on Beauty

A comment was posted on a recent submission entitled "Beauty=Full?" and the author was kind enough to expound upon it and create a new post for us. Beauty can be such a hurtful and devisive issue among women. We hope you'll read, consider, and discuss this essay.

Being physically beautiful is a crippling experience. I was, myself, at one point in my life quite lovely. I also worked with models for many years and noticed a definite lack of character, a lack of maturity in all of us. Our value system was flawed, sometimes to the extreme. When we grow up physically beautiful, people do for us what we should do for ourselves. We are excused from many tasks and duties because we are pretty. We are never properly taught or disciplined and because of this we never mature.

We are awarded social status that we do not deserve nor are ready for. We are gifted with material items and wealth because of our beauty and that denies the ability and value of earning our own way and the beauty of growing strong inwardly. We have an overblown sense of selves, of our personal worth and the value of money. We are artificial, prideful and vain. We are unformed spiritually and stunted emotionally. Because our self-esteem is based on the way we look, we judge others by the way they look. We become extremely petty and competitive and can only maintain superficial, strained relationships with others of our gender. We have many “friends” few of whom care.

We are used and abused because the men who are attracted to us are shallow and vain themselves and desire not to be with us because of who we are but because of how we look. They are quite often narcissistic. We hold as much value as their car, or watch, or shoes. We are merely something else for them to wear. We are only something else for them to show off to their so called friends. We are an object, a thing, not a real woman. We are a Doll….

The men that seek us are quite often narcissistic. It is as if our only value is in being part of their inward, twisted sense of self. We are their mirror, and they imagine that we are how they are judged by the world. We must not only look perfect. We must be, in our totality, their psycho idea of perfection at all times. Otherwise their carefully guarded lack of self-esteem comes crashing down on our head and life begins to get very nasty.

These men can be quite cruel in their efforts to abandoned or reform their once perfect object of love. We have no defense against this because we ourselves are shallow, vain and malformed. We think it is ok and normal to be so plastic on the outside that no life can reach the inside. Not to mention we picked him because he is handsome, so he must be Mr. Right. And we look so good together!

When we begin to fade, as the world's idea of beauty always does, we are traded in for a newer model. When we break, as all immature people do, we are thrown away, like a thing without use. If we are lacking morals and depth and fullness, we become crushed under the weight of it all.

We age, not so gracefully, slipping into addictions and fight for our lives with plastic surgery after plastic surgery. We become those terrible pathetic women with giant unnatural boobs, face brightly painted, clothes too tight, stiletto heels with shorts, big hair, drunk at the bar, hanging on an old rich man or a young guy. You know the ones who can drive a porche convertible but cannot afford the maintenance. The kind of woman that sees nothing, is nothing.

It as if we become as plastic as the Barbie we once so admired.

Barbara Rhyne Tucker

What Hides Inside

Beauty = Full?

Let us talk about beauty.

I am beautiful. I am full of face and have eyes that men have fallen head-long into like a chasm of grief and pain and pleasure and have been lost. Forever. I have a mouth full and sweet like a rosebud, just on the cusp of bursting into a full and long flower that men have kissed and nibbled and sighed into. I have full breasts and midnight hair that tumbles down my back. Yes, it’s true, I am beautiful.

In our society beauty can be everything. Ever since I was a girl all around me have commented upon my face, later my body. I have held value because of these things. I have been lost and devoured and used because of these things. I recognize that I am beautiful, but what is that exactly?

I am visually appealing. I am easy to look at. I invoke pleasant feelings in those who glance in my direction. I kill myself slowly a little more every day to live up to the expectations that others have placed upon me and that I have made my own. I starve myself; I fill my body with chemicals in a desperate attempt to become thinner. Diet pills, laxatives, endless diuretics. This is some months. Then there are the months when I am so exhausted and spent that I just eat to fill the hole left behind. I am filled with guilt and pain and I am filled with more guilt. Every morsel is a punishment and I do this to remind myself that I must be beautiful to have worth. I obsess and the ones who love me the most suffer with me.

The funny thing is I do not believe that others must live this standard that has been set for me. I recognize the beauty in others I love so much. Fierce independence, self-assuredness, the ability to survive, spirituality, loyalty, innocence, worldliness, a loving nature, a protective nature; all are things of beauty and make the bearer beyond compare. I even recognize some of these qualities in myself.

Yet…

Yet, in my darkest hours it’s the ugliness in my psyche that haunts me. In my deepest of depths every pill, every morsel withheld, every graze of the razor across my arms and wrists and thighs is a secret message to myself; a message that says “You must do this to be loved.”

It seems boundless, this pit that I have dug for myself, but I have just written this down. I have acknowledged that it happens. This is my admonition, my cry for help, my pact with all of you and with myself to stop this insanity. I will stop this. I will write and maybe even talk and I will stop this.

I want to be free.

Fat

I am fat.

I have always been fat.

When I was a chunky toddler people would tell my mom how cute I was and she had my picture taken at the fancy photo studios in the department stores. She took endless pictures of my cute dimpled ass as I raced across the living room. She filmed me eating cake. She rewarded me with candy for good deeds.

When I was a fat child people began to tell my mother I would become obese soon if she didn’t do something. She would pat my hand when people were thoughtless. She would buy me ice cream sundays to help me to feel better. When I was 7 she took me to Sears to have my picture done in a pink dress that looked like a dollop of strawberry icing with my red hair all done up in banana curls like Nelly from "Little House On the Prairie". I remember wearing white patent leather Mary Janes and holding my mama’s hand as we went through the store. I remember thinking I looked exactly like Nelly from "Little House on the Prairie", only better, on account of Nelly being such a wicked child and I had just helped watch my little sister that very morning.

When we got to the studio another mother was in front of us with her own daughter who looked like a real-live princess in her white satin dress with the big pink bow in the back. She didn’t have banana curls in her brown hair, it was instead naturally curly and ran all down her back all the way to that big pink bow. I think that was my first pang of female jealousy. She was a slight girl with a light dusting of freckles and I had wild red hair and suddenly I could feel the rolls of fat underneath my strawberry frosting dress. When she looked at me, I smiled. I said “Do you want to be friends?”. She just turned to her mother and whispered “fat”.

My mama never had my picture done again.

When I was a fat teenager, I was still popular. I had lots of friends and people didn’t pick on me like in the movies. I made sure to be available to my friends for whatever they needed. I kept lip gloss and extra money in my purse and extra pencils and pens in my locker alongside my diet pills and my gum and my empty candy wrappers. I smoked cigarettes when it was cool. I drove them all wherever they wanted to go. I snuck out of the house in the middle of the night. I debased myself and made them laugh. But they were friends. They weren’t laughing at me, they were laughing with me.

In my junior year I got a boyfriend. His name was Evan and he was fat too. Everyone thought we were the perfect couple. Evan liked to pinch my double chin and share diet tips with me. After 3 months of being a couple he forced himself on me in his parent’s den one afternoon when we were skipping school. I ran home with bare feet and called my best friend Patty. When I told her what happened she told me she was glad I got laid. She said I should go to the drug store and get a test just in case.
I did. When I tested three weeks later it was negative.

I went to prom with Evan.

My mama decided to practice tough love with me. She began to install pad locks on the pantry doors and wrote down everything I ate. She took me to the fat doctor and he put me a strict diet. My mama told me, “Fat girls don’t get husbands.” She told me, “If you don’t lose weight, you’ll die.”

I stopped eating.

When I was fat young adult I grew to hate women. I hated my mother the most of all. I hated them for using me and for not standing up for me when I needed them most. I hated women because I was one and I hated ME. I went on crash diets, I drank away the pain, I dated men who hated me.

I abused myself.

Now, I’m still a fat adult. I’ve gone to therapy, I’ve had surgery, I’ve gone to therapy again. I’ve lost over 120 pounds and on the outside, I’m not a fat girl at all. On the outside, I’m one of them. I’m a skinny girl. Inside though, there she is. The fat girl still lives there and I know I need to make peace with her.
These days I have friends who are women. Some, like me, are fat girls. Some are ugly girls, some are nerdy girls, some have buck teeth or thick glasses or big feet. Some are beautiful and have never, ever been a fat girl. I am learning to live with myself, with help from these women. I hope someday to finally look in the mirror and just say:

“There I am. Just me.”

Personal account submitted by a Jane Doe in Birmingham, Alabama, written with cooperation by Mellissa Ybarra.