how lovely to be a woman (?)
i long to be immune to objectification.
“bye bye birdie” was the musical my high school put on during my freshman/sophomore year and shortly after seeing that, i watched the movie, which starred ann margret. the soundtrack is catchy as all hell, but the one song and the one scene that gets stuck in my head from time to time is the scene where ann margret sings “how lovely to be a woman”.
ann margret’s character, kim mcafee, prances around the room, swooning about her newly acquired pin from her high school boyfriend, changing from a form-fitting, ultra-feminine outfit to a simple sweater, jeans, and a baseball hat. the sweater swallowed her figure and her hair was messily plopped onto her head. it was the epitome of beauty to me and still is. it’s the look i aspire for every time i buy an oversized sweater. i still have yet to achieve it.
i’ve made the joke several times that my current, desired aesthetic is a “floaty rectangle”. i’ve seen multiple articles on a similar topic, wanting to look like a “michelle yeoh movie protagonist”, referring to the style as “menocore”. as this article from material magazine states:
Consisting of the words “meno”, taken from “menopause”, as well as “core” of the last big anti-trend “norm core”, back in 2014, it describes the trend to dress like a middle-aged woman.
it’s lovely to be a woman until you realize that we’re expected to look a certain way in order to be attractive, but don’t show your attractiveness too much, otherwise you’ll be dubbed a slut. i don’t need to paraphrase that famous monologue from “barbie” to you—you know the gist.
as a young girl who has been fully developed there since the fifth grade, i have been very aware of my curves from a young age. i do not fit the waif thin aesthetic of an asian woman that has been popularized in the media. i’ve been sexualized for my curves, i’ve been made fun of for them, i’ve been the subject of envy for them. i remember one sunday at church, a woman came up to me, at twelve years old, and told me i looked matronly in an outfit that i very much liked. my top was some sort of baby doll top, which definitely accentuated my chest, and it was very conservative. it’s something that has stuck with me to this day.
i find that anything i’ve worn and still wear can be sexualized, just because of my two endowments on my chest. i’ve grown up thinking that i’m not attractive—or at least conventionally attractive—and i’ve been told that there are some traits of mine that are abrasive or too intimidating to attract any sort of partner. but it really hits different when you walk up to a blind first date, he’s waiting at the door, and the first thing he looks at is not your nervous smile. you see his eyes travel down, and the pit in your stomach grows larger. this boy really wants to get to know you in a biblical sense, but not you in a holistic sense.
it’s one thing to have this happen during a one-off, first date. it’s another to be rudely awakened to it, and then anticipate it from every male stranger you pass.
during the summers, especially recently in my renaissance of loving my body as it is, i toe the line of wanting to wear tank tops and tube tops, and wanting to wear flowy, linen-y, shapeless clothes. i envy smaller chested people; to have your body not be objectified for the one thing, to wear minimal clothes and have your chest not be the focus. emma stone’s topless appearances in “poor things” are seen as art, however, me in a tank top to keep me from overheating in the chicago summers is instantly seen as a siren call. i just have boobs, and shirts fit this way over them. i can deal, but some people around me can’t. and i am hyper aware and hyper conscious of it.
because of this quite literal weight on my chest, my back is all sorts of screwed up. i am currently going through expensive chiropractic treatments, physical therapy, and cupping treatments to just relieve me of my pain. i have to build an extensive case for my insurance company to consider partially covering a breast reduction surgery. this burden that is on my back and my chest is never lost on me, but i am so eager for the day to be seen for more than body parts. (i am also excited to not be in pain anymore.)
in life, i choose to glide through as a “floaty rectangle” or as a femme fatale. looking through my closet, one hanger can contain an exuberant excess of fabric and the other can contain a square foot of fabric. in all of my clothes, i can convey any sort of power i’d like. sure, menocore is dressing as a “woman of a certain age”. my “floaty rectangle” aesthetic can also be seen as dressing as a “potato sack”, hiding these feminine wares. and much like viv, in the first article i’ve linked here, i’m going to highlight the quote about the woman that leans into menocore:
[She] has aged out of the male gaze without a backward glance, and she is totally at ease in her body. She exudes self-acceptance and self-actualization and all the other self-based issues we struggle with in our youth.
with this belief, hell yeah—i’ll wear the equivalent of a queen sized comforter out in public. but at the same time, i’m going to embrace the curves i have while i still have them. do i want to get a little flirty? do i just wanna have fun? let’s wear that low/tight/sheer top. will i get ogled by men? unfortunately, yes. we do still live in a world where ken gets nominated for an oscar, and barbie gets snubbed.
in “bye bye birdie”, kim also learns at a young age that she has influence as a woman. even in “how lovely to be a woman”, she sings:
how lovely to be a woman
and have one job to do:
to pick out a boy and train him
and then when you are through
you've made him the man you want him to be...
life's lovely when you're a woman like me!
being a woman is powerful and influential. every curve of mine is beautiful. the male gaze will continue to be overtly objectifying.
i still am self-conscious of this part of my body. there are intrusive thoughts of if i will become instantly physically unattractive if i go through with this surgery. as if my “feminine wares” are the only things that draw people to me. but, i know that beauty is more than physical. i am loved and have been loved for more than my body. and in this (possible) last year of having my chest as-is, i will continue to love it and flaunt it as i please.
