Yep, a discussion. Something I never do here on my blog. I prefer to tack up my crazy, open heart and peace out before I read any responses that sting just a little bit too much.
But I have a question for you, because I'm having trouble getting to the bottom of this thought.
I was reading articles on Retronaut (one of my favorite websites) and found one of Sexual Album Covers from the 1950's. I found the album titles hilarious, and slid my laptop around to show my husband.
I didn't think twice about him seeing a page full of photos like the one above. The sick pang that runs through my gut when I see women in their lingerie in the sidebar of GQ wasn't there. The hurt, the anger, the betrayal, the loneliness that we women feel when slinky, perfect, 24" waist 36" breasted women throw themselves in our men's faces...I didn't feel it.
And so I've been thinking about this.
Why did I not feel instantly thrust back into the "never sexy enough" category?
Why did I not feel like I had to compete with these semi or completely nude women, the way I feel when I see this week's celebrity's leaked nude photos?
Why could I feel like I could flip through a 1947 Playboy with my husband?
What is it that makes one woman beautiful and one woman a slutty threat?
Last week while running errands with my husband, we talked about how this generation has taken everything beautiful and tried to sexualize it. He told me how a woman with her hair up in a sundress will turn every man's head, simply because we are women, and we are beautiful. Beauty is meant to be admired. I know what he's talking about, too - because I've looked at women and admired their beauty. But for both me and my husband, just because a woman is beautiful, doesn't mean we want to sleep with them. But we struggle to believe this now, as women, because feminine beauty barely exists anymore without the thick presence of sexual competition.
And in competition, one person wins, and everyone else loses.
The everyone else? It's our husbands. Our boyfriends. Me. You. Our daughters. Our sisters and brothers and mothers and fathers. Every woman who is real. Even the woman on the billboard who looks at her photoshopped image and skips her dinner to work out, using her own fake image to motivate her further towards an unattainable, loveless, beauty-less sexuality.
Maybe when I look at curvaceous women in these 50's advertisements, I see women who are sexy because they are beautiful. Beautiful because they are women with a womanly form.
Maybe I don't get that sinking, broken feeling because when I look at those women I know that I am one. Instead of seeing a woman I can never be, I see myself as a woman who is part of the female race everywhere, inherently possessive of beauty and sexuality.
But I don't know, still, really. What are your thoughts?
Oh and PS. If you want to leave a comment and tell me to stop being threatened by other women, or that my husband was lying to me and really does want to sleep with every beautiful woman, and that I'm just an insecure woman blogging about my problems, you can please leave and never come back to my blog again. Thank you for understanding, and for not being ridiculous.