The Shackles of Womanhood
No this is not about all the stuff that will make you want to exterminate the male members of the Homo Sapien species. Let's leave that to the regular pages. Let's talk about the heaviness of other burdens that we women have been made to believe are crucial to our happiness.
I'm talking shoes. Sorry ladies, I know you're gasping with outrage at such fashion blasphemy but seriously, do you not see the conspiracy of the industry, a construct of surreptitious sexism that perpetuates a kind of entrapment that is borne by the tendons and balls of the feet?
Think of all the gorgeous stilettos you have worn or coveted -- those contraptions that expect unrealistic contortions of your feet that must move gracefully without major injury. I mean, would any man in their right mind voluntarily walk in those things inflicting such pain on the balls of the feet, to the knees and permanent misalignment of his spine?
Yes, we have been brainwashed into thinking we must all walk on tiptoes with stork-like movements to be accepted in cool company. Think about the borderline anorexic models with endless legs trotting along the ramp in those symbols of discomfort and pain. What they don't realise is that there's nothing sexy about tendonitis, back and hip pain or knee replacement surgery, which is often the price a woman must pay for all those swanky stilettos (original or copies) by Jimmy Choo and Manolo Blahnik.
By the time you hit the 40s and 50s you can write a eulogy for your knees as you put all that menopausal weight on those poor knee caps just because you wanted to conform to the tall, sexy image of your golden years.
What about the daily fashionwear -- those skinny jeans that stop blood circulation and those backless blouses that you wear even in sub-zero temperatures? Think of all the "dream sequences" in Hindi films -- among the snowy mountains while the hero will wear a sensible turtleneck pullover, the sultry heroine will wear the sheerest chiffon sari with a threadbare bandana for a blouse. Why must she risk pneumonia and bronchitis or even hypothermia just to get a few wolf whistles from the movie theatre enthusiasts? You can just see the poor young woman barely able to stop her teeth from chattering as she smiles as sunnily as possible and bats her watery eyes (stinging from the blistering cold no doubt) at the cashmere adorned Romeo.
Yet the biggest burden that has off-shooted from the fashion addiction is the ridiculous range of cosmetics that few women can resist. And it's not just the zillion fairness creams that you must have, apparently, to be a heroic journalist saving kids from a fire or landing an executive job at a snooty corporation. It's a Leviathan proportion of products churned out by the cosmetic industry that promises to paint you into the 'fantasy you', the supermodel, age-defying you. It's no longer just 'sunu powtar' (a local derivative of vanishing snow and powder) that are part of your essentials.
Now you must have a primer to smoothen out the pores, the fifty shades of eyeshadow to make your eyes smoky or dreamy or just slightly flirty, a sneaky range of concealers and correcting palettes (apparently green has incredible powers of camouflage), eye brighteners, contour palette to create mythical cheekbones out of chubby cheeks, highlighters to give you that dewy (or shiny sweaty) look, the liquid foundations, the 'pancake', the loose translucent powder, the bronzer and blusher, eyeliners by tattoo artists, the blue and green mascara... an exhausting list that never ends. They may take up half the bedroom and force you to forget about that holiday in Phi Phi Island because of the astronomical bill but they are, to a huge number of women, the bare necessities of life. Meanwhile, one must not forget the philanthropy behind all this buying of gunk-on-the-face that can may make you look perfect for a Halloween party -- it is making some people very, very rich.
So there you have it -- a glimpse into the burdens imposed by the worldwide web of fashion. It is just the tip of the iceberg of what the beauty business has burdened women with -- an irresistible compulsion to spend limitless hours and money on all the war paint, the voluntary traumatising of their feet and the illogical sartorial defiance of sub-zero temperatures, all for the sake of facing a looks-obsessed, ageist world.
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