A couple of years ago people were saying that models where unrealistic images of how women are supposed to look?

Sure. But then what about now? Now we actually have a concept of beauty that is not even found in real life. It’s actually more like science fiction. Even those few percent that a beautiful enough to be featured in your favourite magazine are covered in makeup, photoshopped and most likely had their fair share of plastic surgery too. And we are taking it in without any sense of criticism at all. The walls of my 12-year-old cousin are plastered with posters of “perfect women”. Every day whatever she’s doing she is surrounded by perfection. She is constantly comparing herself to something she’ll never be her parents are doing absolutely nothing about it, because it’s completely normal. But doesn’t the fact that it’s considered normal make it even more disgusting? This retouched fantasy of human physical perfection is not art. It’s propaganda.

And at the same time – even though we know how this distorted image of beauty makes us aim for something we’ll never reach – we still know that we cannot afford to not pursue it. Because everywhere people are telling us that we have to. It’s not just a superficial longing, it is our identity that is at stake. I don’t want to be ugly. Subhuman. I don’t want to be a failure; unworthy of consideration.

And yes, this is about women’s rights.  As it always has been. Where masculinity has traditionally been measured by status, femininity is measured by beauty. And sure, beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder, but when all we see are models that would make Barbie cry, the standard of beauty has been distorted to an unhealthy level.

I have no idea what could be done about this. I don’t think banning this would have any influence, or even be possible. How do you tell these people (models, photographers, ect.) that prostituting themselves like this is not acceptable?

Because in the pursuit of beauty, there is no finish line. Nothing about us will ever be perfect. The need will always, always be there. There will always be just one more thing we could do. Or get. Or lose. It is a fool’s marathon. But I don’t care. I will run it anyway.
Augusten Burroughs

This post is a part of an opinions series where I speak my mind on topics that interest me. I have earlier on discussed abortion and the term single.

When I was younger I wasn’t able to tolerate any type of praise. I would apologize and belittle it, and I was always convinced some sort of mistake had been made. Now: not so much.

Now, I am like a dog.. If you tell me that I did good for getting the ball, I will go get it again and again and again – no matter which thorny bush you throw it into.. This is actually extremely embarrassing when you think about it, because (like so much else I do) it just goes to show an incredibly small amount of self worth. Or an ego that is incredibly large (but that’s a story for another day).

I have a theory that all of my bad self esteem goes back to that time in 2nd grade when we were playing pigerne efter drengene which translated directly means the girls after the boys. The rules were pretty simple: the girls had to try to catch the boys and when they did, they kissed them.

The boys of course had to pretend that they thought it was extremely disgusting, but all around the playground you saw guys tripping, running into a girl by mistake or just running in an absurdly slow fashion. Except the guys who were running from me. I can still see the fright in their eyes as they were running for their lives, rather risking to sprain a muscle than a kiss from me – and through that entire summer of pigerne efter drengene I never got to kiss one boy.

All through my life, no matter how successful or attractive I later become, I have still had that image in my head of Niclas, who I believe was my #1 crush at the time, running like a madman to avoid getting kissed by me. But praise makes the image blurry. Getting told I am good at something makes me feel that even if Niclas wouldn’t want to kiss me I am at least appreciated for being the person who will always get the ball.

I am not sure on about how it is in English, but in Danish the “proper” word for certain minorities change every couple of years. As an example I wouldn’t know what to call a person with Down’s syndrome anymore because whatever I choose it will probably be politically incorrect.

I kinda feel the same way about the word “single” (the two probably cannot really be compared I am doing it anyway). The word is obsolete and I cringe at the use of the word as a marketing category: there are single girls, single literature, single vacations, single ready meals and single brad pans. And built into the word there’s an implicit premise that one should be “double” to be whole, and that it’s only possible when you have a man in your life.

I especially hate the fact that being a single woman surely must mean that you are constantly on the prowl for a man.

When I’m asked to describe myself whether I am a man or not is one of the most important things. When I have stated that I am not, then it’s  if I have a man or not. It’s tiring and I sometimes feels like it can build a cliff between me and my non-single friends.

Often I have to remind myself that being single doesn’t translate into being weird or unwanted – because that is what the word “single” carries with it. I guess I would just like a word for my civil status that doesn’t imply that I am desperate, lonely and/or dysfunctional.