Frankly, I can’t say I’m surprised even though I was hopeful (see my post from March 5).

Here’s the word on Jessica Simpson’s Price of Beauty via Ms Online:

I had felt a bit optimistic about this show’s potential, although the network’s track history in its reality shows–and in its treatment of women, particularly women of color–made this wishful thinking. In fact, Jessica and pals were immature at best and offensive at worst. They laughed through a Buddhist monk’s illustration of meditative practices in Thailand. They gagged as their beauty ambassador showed them a few Thai delicacies,  and Jessica remarked that she was disappointed she didn’t get a “happy ending” at the end of her Thai massage.

Like myself and many others, Young was hopeful despite the network hosting said Simpson series. Based on the summary above, things are worse than expected and positively embarrassing. As Jezebel describes it the episode showcased the “ugly American,” the ethnocentric, superficial and immature American. Ugly, indeed (and entirely disappointing given the amount of viewers this show reaches and *could* inform thoughtfully and intelligently).

The best part of Courtney Young’s review and analysis, though,  is her suggestion for episodes that examine our own bizarre, if not perverse, obsession with manufactured and surgically enhanced definitions of beauty:

Why waste such an opportunity to engage folks in thoughtful programming about the impossible beauty standards that torture women worldwide?

Although the premise of the series involves going around the world, why not just start in the U.S.?  Consider these possibilities to explore in U.S. episodes:

• Visit the Miss California Pageant, which funded infamous contestant Carrie Prejean’s boob job in order to “put her in the best possible confidence in order to present herself in the best possible light on a national stage”.
• Visit a plastic surgeon.  Two-thirds of them say that their patients have asked for surgery to “remain competitive in the workplace.”.
• Visit a psychologist and sociologist and ask why 20 percent of U.S. women (and 10 percent of U.S. men) today describe themselves as unattractive whereas 12 years ago only one percent of both groups what have been so self-disparaging.
• Visit  Heidi Montag to discuss her outrageous transformation at the beginning of this year, when she underwent more than nine surgeries at the mere age of 23. (But don’t expect illuminating answers.)

There’s been lost of buzz about Heidi Montag’s overhaul (what she calls her transformation from ugly duckling to her “best me”) in the last month. Most of the press has been negative and the reactions have ranged from anger to horror.  Many women, specifically, are angry that she has “sold out” and made things “that much harder” for other women. Others are horrified by the extreme measures she has taken to achieve a warped and industry-influenced perception of beautiful. She claims her mother looked at her like a “circus freak.”

A similar thought came to mind when I saw the photographs of her newly sculpted body and face (that she had the means to purchase-hello-expensive). It’s the same reaction I get when I see pictures of Pamela Anderson. Eww. What a freak.

The platinum hair. The humongous, perfectly round orbs. The manufactured face.

But, Pamela Anderson used to the epitome of beauty to me. I cringe as I admit that. I used to fake-n-bake when I couldn’t get to the beach and smear accelerator on my crying skin (after all, it was the early 90s), I bleached my hair for years,  and wore acrylics for far too long.

I don’t think I was the only one. I know I wasn’t the only one. And I know Heidi isn’t the only one these days.

I realize Heidi is a celebrity wanna be, a media monger with scant talent. I realize that her beach work outs, wedding and, probably even this plastic surgery story, are calculated PR attempts however lame they may be.

But I have empathy for Heidi and I don’t think she’s as much of a freak show as we make her out to be. Yeah, she had 10 procedures in a  day. Yes, she almost died. But Heidi is not the only one supporting Dr. Ryan or the countless other plastic surgeons paying their bloated mortgages in swanky neighborhoods on the insecurities of wealthy women and women with mountains of debt (and men..yes, I know about the men). Shoot, I know people who have gone to Dr. Ryan for countless procedures with the desire for more.

What strikes me about Heidi Montag is that her desire for an unrealistic image of perfection has become more and more normative. Walking through parts of Los Angeles, I tend to see the same face over and over. I remember being slightly drunk at a Beverly Hills establishment some years ago and asking, “why do all these women have the same face?” In my state of intoxication it was like some bizarre carnival side show.

But it isn’t a bizarre carnival side show. It is increasingly becoming the norm. And not just in LA. Across the country. Across the globe. It’s an anthropological curiosity.

The outcries of horror and claims of freak come from the fact that she has candidly shared the gruesome, life threatening means required to achieve this notion of “beauty.” Almost innocently and surprised, she said that this is what it takes to be noticed and profitable in the industry. That’s what freakish because it is sadly true.

The fact that women (and men) *choose* (this is a point of debate) to pay to go under the knife and possibly experience complications or die in an attempt to look like a gazillion other women is ludicrous. And freaky. But that is exactly what is happening all the time to more and more women at younger and younger ages.

But most women don’t talk about the extreme measures and boat loads of money it takes to pursue this illusory beauty ideal. If more women gave honest accounts of their torturous beauty regimens we’d realize that Heidi isn’t a freak but the canary in the coal mine alerting us of dangers as more and more of our women, young and old, elect to construct and manufacture their faces and frames.

We know the beauty industry pulls in billions of dollars.  According to the Economist via this latest post @ Sociological Images:

…beauty spending–on make-up, diet and exercise, fragrances, skin care, hair products, and cosmetic surgery–adds up to a $160 billion-a-year worldwide.

But, how often do we personally think about what we spend and the amount of time it takes us to get ready? I’m not considered “high-maintenance” and, even so, I spend a tremendous amount of time and energy on my physical appearance:

I shave my legs, armpits and bikini area, I get my eyebrows waxed, I use body lotion, facial moisturizer and eye cream, toner for my face, facial serum, SPF, get manicures and pedicures, use deodorant, shampoo, conditioner, hair oil and shine, nail polish, mascara, liquid eye liner and eye shadow.

Wow!

It’s sobering to write it out. As I said, it doesn’t take me hours to get ready, I don’t look like a woman that takes hours to get ready, my hair is not perfectly coiffed and groomed, I am not “flawless,” and don’t look like anyone featured in the media.

Sociological Images provides the link to a slide show of women photographed during their monthly beauty routine and calculates the costs associated with it.

How much do you spend each month on diet, exercise, make-up, hair, scents and oils, and/or plastic surgery or various enhancements such as Botox, teeth whitening, photofacials and/or laser treatments? How many products do you have in your bathroom that you haven’t used completely before buying another brand name?

Vaginal plastic surgery knows no age limit.

Miss California’s Carrie Prejean is generating more commentary.  Following her statement that she was tempted by the devil when asked about gay marriage, the question asked by Sheldon Filger is: how does God feel about breast implants.  Never mind the fact that these were implants funded by the pageant to boost self-esteem.  I guess God’s version weren’t good enough. Hmmmm.

Maybe I’m just Miss California dreaming, but it seems to me that Carrie Prejean is afflicted with a terminal case of breast envy. Just as some men may feel inadequate if they perceive a certain part of their anatomy doesn’t “measure up,” it could be that the actions, thoughts and words of the 21 year old beauty queen and runner up at the Miss USA pageant are merely a disguise for her own sense of not “measuring up” to her beauty queen peers in the natural state God endowed her with.

There is a reason why I inserted God into this narrative. The whole premise of Ms. Prejean’s political antics has been predicated on the claim that she is a devout, Bible-believing Christian woman and her outspoken posture on the issue of same sex-marriage is an act of pious conscience. Whether or not I agree with Carrie Prejean’s decision to place her celebrity persona in the service of the anti-Gay marriage organization known as the National Organization for Marriage, I could respect her decision if it was based on consistency. However, it strikes me that this devout Bible-believing Christian woman missed one verse in the Bible, no doubt unintentionally. Allow me to quote from Chapter 4, Verse 5 of the Song of Solomon: “Thy two breasts are like young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies.”

If you are a conservative Christian who believes that the entire Bible, chapter and verse, is the inalterable word of God almighty, then it appears clear that God thought female breasts were quite important, or otherwise the Lord of the universe would not have bothered to reveal what is essentially an erotic ode to the bosoms of women. My interpretation of this biblical verse is that God thought breasts as they exist on each woman are beautiful, “like young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies.” And for the record, young roes are somewhat on the small size.

So, it is obvious that God adores female breasts (kind of like me, or maybe it is vice versa). But more importantly, God created female breasts, along with everything else in the universe. So the essence of that verse from the Song of Solomon is that God thought his creation of the bosoms of women was perfection. Furthermore, it is a principal of conservative Christians such as Carrie Prejean that everything God created in its natural state is perfect and should never be altered, such as the institution of marriage being solely a union for a man and a woman. So Ms. Prejean, what about hiring a cosmetic surgeon to alter your breasts, and undo God’s perfect creation?

Susie Orbach, author of Fat is a Feminist Issue, talks about her latest work, Bodies:

Her latest book, Bodies, maps the progress of our alienation, from a time when we took our bodies for granted to one where they are an endlessly perfectible work in progress. “When I was growing up,” she explains, “one or two girls were beautiful, but it was not an aspiration, right? We didn’t expect to be that sportsman or that beauty queen. That was OK, that was what movie stars were for. That wasn’t something that was essential for all of us.” Yet today, movie-star looks are not just an aspiration but an imperative, and ordinary people think nothing of starving or surgically enhancing their bodies in a tireless campaign to make them look as though they belong to somebody else altogether.

Just as Donald Winnicott identified the “false self”, whereby a neglected baby will blame itself for its carer’s lack of interest, and create an artificial version of itself in the hope of winning love, so Orbach argues that we are creating false bodies. Assailed by media imagery that celebrates only one type of body and one type of beauty, we assume any discrepancy between our own appearance and this digitally airbrushed “ideal” must be our fault, and that it’s not merely necessary but morally virtuous to do whatever it takes to correct our deficiency. The simultaneous rise of anorexia and obesity is not a paradox, but rather two sides of the same psychological coin – both manifestations of our panic about hunger, in which normal appetite becomes pathologised as the enemy. Crucially, whereas once we might have experienced the pressure to look different as an onerous tyranny, today we tell ourselves that it’s empowering.

“We transform the sense of being criticised,” Orbach writes, “by becoming the moving and enthusiastic actor in our own self-improvement programme. We will eagerly repair what is wrong … We see ourselves as agents, not victims. It is the individual woman who feels herself to be at fault for not matching up to the current imagery … She applies herself to the job of perfecting that image for herself and so makes it her own, not assaultive or alien.”

Orbach’s writing is closer in tone to cultural studies than to the jaunty self-help register of most contemporary books about eating, but in person there is nothing abstractly academic about her. Framed by a mass of curls, she is small, even birdlike, but her sprightly energy conveys a vivid sense of aliveness. Her accent has a faint American inflection, which can sound almost antipodean at times, particularly when her sentences end in a question mark – “right?” – and she is surprisingly relaxed, even imprecise, with her words, often letting sentences tail away unfinished. But she is very clear about where we are going wrong.

I’ve been half looking forward to the meeting, and half dreading it because, although it must be 20 years since I first read what Orbach calls “Fifi”, her work feels uncomfortably relevant to my own current state. She is the sort of woman you find yourself confiding in, and I admit to her that halfway through my first pregnancy, my overriding preoccupation is with weight gain. To my dismay, what I’m really thinking about most of the time is how I’m ever going to lose it. And right there, according to Orbach, is the source of our troubled relationship with food. Mothers transmit their own anxieties to their babies; it all begins in the family.

“The only way to solve the problem is to provide very different help to new mums,” she says briskly. “Because every mother wants to do right by their kid. It would mean training health visitors and midwives; you’d raise a mother’s awareness of her own body. This is an opportunity for both of you to find the rhythm in terms of relation to appetite. I don’t think it would be difficult to design. And it would be very cheap. And new mums would really benefit from it. But instead, they are being told to do sit-ups straightaway, and why not even consider having a C-section, so you don’t have to get that last month’s weight gain? All of that nonsense. It’s completely counter to what a baby’s mental health requires – and what the mother needs as well, actually.”

What can parents say, I ask, to a 16-year-old girl who is convinced that a regime of dieting and beautification is not self-punishing but empowering? “Well, it’s awfully late at 16. But I’d be saying to the mums: ‘Watch your own behaviour – how often do you criticise your own body in front of your daughter?’ Stop making the body the cause of the problem, or the solution to the problem. The problem isn’t how she looks.”

But surely a teenage girl would say that how she looks is precisely the problem? “But what she’d be picking out aren’t imperfections, they’re just what makes her her, right?” What if she says she’s overweight? “Well, they all feel overweight. Even when they’re tiny, tiny, tiny. But where are they getting that idea? That’s why I think the mums are doing something.”

If Orbach were just another voice in the cacophony of finger-pointing that surrounds most discussion about weight, I would be feeling unpleasantly guilty by now. But her analysis of what she calls “disordered eating” extends beyond mothers and the family, to encompass everything from the diet industry – “which relies upon a 95% recidivism rate” – to the media, which produces glossy magazines in which “not a single image is not digitally retouched, up to hundreds of times” – and globalisation, in which a culture of “aspirational bodies is the mark of entry”.

One of the things that strikes me is the statement that “movie-star” looks were not always an aspiration or expectation. Each semester my students conduct an oral history and time and time again, women over 60 respond to questions about beauty standards and beauty norms that existed when they were girls and teenagers with the same sentiment. There was a time, before the all out media assault, when standards of beauty existed that weren’t as relentless or unrealistic as they are today.  Girls and women recognized a celebrity figure as exactly that.  A celebrity. A star.  Someone unlike themselves.

Girls and women today are inundated with relentless messages that proclaim that they CAN look like the celebrity du-jour and that they SHOULD and if they don’t attain that image they have failed, they are without value and should try harder.

It is little wonder that girls and women see these “failures” as personal rather than recognizing the failure on the part of the mass media machine to portray “ordinary” girls and women.

Sitcoms and films from my childhood portrayed more “average-looking” individuals.  Not everyone was primped and polished with the intention of looking “natural.” “Natural” beauty these days is nowhere near natural or easy and breezy.  It is an all out organized campaign with a low success rate.

I’ve known for years that gyms are not health clubs.  As Lester Burnham declares in American Beauty, he works out “to look good naked.” And, that idea of “looking good” has become even less attainable without the “aid” of cosmetic surgery. Equinox Fitness is quite candid about it’s true aim with it’s tag line “It’s not fitness.  It’s life.”

The following ad makes a bold cultural statement about girls and women in the 21st century minus the insecurities, side effects, risks or money costs.

Darryl Roberts’ documentary, “America the Beautiful,” is out!  In the never ending and unhealthy pursuit for the elusive image of beauty, we purge, restrict calories, over exercise, smoke, drink coffee, nip/tuck, suck, pluck, wax, shave, exfoliate, peel and pull.  Roberts’ forces us to look in the mirror as a nation and confront our value system.  As women, we are primarily valued by the degree to which we conform to acceptable standards of beauty and our accomplishments as scholars, business women, artists, poets, mothers, activists and politicians fall by the wayside if we are not coiffed, polished and flawless.

At a historical moment in which Sarah Palin has a serious chance at taking the VP slot, we are forced to confront the role her culturally determined and accepted level of attractivesness plays.  Poor Hillary!  That woman could barely get dressed in the morning without getting ripped apart.  Donatella Versace offered her fashion advice and in a political debate she was not evaluated on her policies, she was evaluated on the basis of her looks.  Hillary Clinton was touted as an ugly duckling, a woman too unattractive to have been married to Bill.  Among the other variables that have thrown Sarah Palin in our faces, we shouldn’t downplay the role of the beauty norm which takes on a religious fervor in this country.  For many women, the pursuit of an unrealistic beauty ideal becomes a crusade.

Elizabeth Wellington, a fashion columnist for the Philadelphia Inquirer, devoted an entire article attesting to Palin’s feminine wiles and her ability to harness and use her femininity. While fashion and pursuits of beauty that are destined to ultimately fail are seen on many counts as frivolous, vapid and superficial pursuits, we can’t underestimate the rewards and positive sanctions bestowed on those that adhere, however painfully, to these definitions. Sarah Palin is proof that a woman’s figure and the way she clothes that figure, will help catapult her into the limelight and project talents and gifts she may not actually possess.  Despite the rewards, let’s not get confused.  This is not a form of empowerment when we become slaves to a culturally defined and imposed male standard of beauty.  It is not empowerment when we loathe the body’s we inhabit.  It is not empowerment when we use our physical assets to manipulate a system for recognition that would be lost otherwise.