I don’t know about you, but personally I’m extremely pleased that I’m not a supermodel.
You might think that this is a strange thing to think about, because most of us of course aren’t supermodels. However I am actually immensely grateful that I am not extraordinarily beautiful because I don’t have to deal with a lot of unpleasant pressures.
While no one even knows the names of the most famous and successful male models, female supermodels like Cindy Crawford and Claudia Schiffer are household names. Women and girls unfortunately sometimes do look at supermodels like this and feel disheartened, but I feel the opposite, for the below reasons:
- Because I’m not a supermodel no one notices me in a crowd.
No one cares if I walk down a street or attend an event. I am just a human being and I am free to do whatever I want to do, and I won’t be interrupted or asked to sign something, or photographed by annoying paparazzi. Sure, some days I feel a bit sexy and me and my hot booty will happily stride it out as I walk down the street, but most of the time I’m more interested in noticing the diverse mass that is humanity myself as I walk amongst it. As I am just a normal garden variety human being, I’m always able to do this.
- Because I’m not a supermodel my body doesn’t have to be perfect.
My body isn’t perfect and f*%#ing thank God for that. Because my body isn’t perfect I don’t have to try and keep it perfect. I’m me and I’m comfortable with my body, including the dimples on my arse, the wrinkles on my face and that larger left breast that is perpetually trying to leap out of my bra.
- Because I’m not a supermodel I’m allowed to have wrinkles and breed more of them.
I’ve always had plenty of wrinkles, a by-product of a busy and enjoyable Western Australian childhood where I spent a fair bit of time in the sun. I’ve also worked in my share of outdoor jobs, and my skin is living proof of those hours of work. I have an excellent assembly of wrinkles, and I am free to breed plenty more of them because no one gives a flying f&*% what I look like.
- Because I’m not a supermodel I can be a bit furry.
I don’t know about you but I really can’t be bothered with hair removal most of the time. I sort of prefer my garden a bit on the wild side, if you know what I mean, with perhaps an occasional yearly prune. I don’t want to be continuously bare, like those weird cats that don’t have hair and totally freak me out because I don’t know if I’m supposed to pat them or not. Besides, some of the creatures I love most in this world are covered in hair, and I love having something in common with them.
- Because I’m not a supermodel I’m not going to get the sack if I stop looking good.
Believe me, there is absolutely no way in hell that I am valued in the workplace for my looks. I’m valued for my skills, knowledge and work ethic, and all of these increase as I spend more time on this planet. I don’t have to worry about being terminated for becoming unattractive, I probably already am (at least to some of my colleagues, as they also are to me) and neither I or anyone else gives a rat’s arse either way.
© Annemaree Jensen 2020
The photos used in this article were taken from the superb website pexels.com, apart from the first photo and the hair removal photo, which were taken from the amazing website pixabay.com.