I’ve had a couple of workdays in the office this month. HIGHLY EXCEPTIONAL. And thus…sorta special.
I dress up for the office. I do. When I go into work it’s pencil skirts and curvy dresses. High heels and blazers. You dress for the job you want, not the job you have. And I wanna be UP there.
This. Means. Being. Uncomfortable.
I was watching this clip of a Kirsten Bell interview and I just realized….we…we are fucked. Because not ONLY do we conform to ridiculous beauty standards…we also exemplify, honor and encourage them.
Corrective underwear…isn’t comfortable. Hell. Even bras aren’t. Ever since corona I’ve come to appreciate the freedom of breathtaking elastic figure ‘correcting’ crap and bras that bite into your sides ALL DAY LONG. And though I admit that, even to my own standards, I do look sloppy – the level of increased comfort is insane.
And I don’t wanna go back.
Because two days in the office taught me that I appreciate breathing freely more than not-having-fleshy-rolls. And that I love not having red skinflares more than I love the extra cupsize of a pushup bra.
But the thing is
My vision of beauty has been so warped. So remodelled. SO shaped and defined by current culture that the thought of leaving the house sans-correction ALSO freaks me out.
There’s no best of both worlds here. We’ve made our world so that there’s no way to be beautiful without being uncomfortable. And no way to be comfortable while looking succesful and professional.