I’m a little worried about writing right now, as I am so mad at a society that demands so much of women to make us feel insecure and inadequate, even when we are at the top of our game. Virtually every woman that I know is not feeling self assured enough due in great part to this stereotype that society has imposed on women. No woman is ever skinny enough, pretty enough, smart enough, accomplished enough. Nothing is enough. Women are supposed to look twenty-five at fifty, and be at the top in their academic or work environment. When did we, as women, allow this to happen to us? We allowed these demands to be imposed on us, somewhere between my mother’s generation and my own. My mother used to tell me not to let anyone tell me that I wasn’t enough, but somehow I became my own worst critic. And the pathetic part of that is I am one of the ones who is feeling fairly good about herself. Believe me, I have my moments of extreme anxiety, but for the most part, I like who I am. I give God all the credit for that, but the human part of me still kicks in with a lot of negative and critical talk in my head. I think I’ve said all the right things too, to my daughters, but my actions have spoken louder. I put too much emphasis on my weight, how I look, what I wear. If I had it to do over, I would show them what was really important and counted for eternity, and that is where I would put my emphasis. The walk would match the talk better.
Today, the pressure on our young women is unbearable, and it’s time we take back our God-given right to grow old and look it, to not over-function and be satisfied, to be average again and happy just to be who we are—beautiful in our own right, without the anxiety or pressure to please a society that has gone way out of control, where plastic surgery, diet pills, fake tans and Barbie figures are the norm. Last time I checked, normal looked a lot different. Normal was average, and normal was easily attained. Normal was…normal. Think we might do the next generation a favor, and give ourselves a break? Oh, I pray so. It starts with me.