2003-07-10 - 8:26 a.m.
La Belle Dame est magnifique!
Funny, I thought I'd get more response to my comments on being a Baroness. Presumably, everyone got bored and didn't read that far. Oh well, that's what I get for writing long answers. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~* I have a secret confession to make. Shocked, aren't you? Titillated? On the edge of your seat, wondering what awful thing I will confess to now (and will it involve amphibicide?) Well, okay, maybe not. I want to be the ideal woman as seen through a pre-Raphaelite lens. I want to look and behave like a beautiful Victorian-Medieval maiden, such as the one in the picture on Richard's diary. In fact, this chick is the one I want to be. Masterlemyng talked in his diary about how people grow up wanting to be knights (in reference to why the peerages are essentially unequal, not because the work that goes into them is different, but because of the stories we are told as children). Well, most women grow up wanting to be princesses (don't believe me? Think we've outgrown that fantasy? Just pick up *any* bridal magazine and learn, grasshopper). While we want to be independent and fully realized, the lure of the princess never quite goes away. It pops up at inopportune moments - when the tenth guy in a row tells us we're not the one he's looking for, and he goes off with some bimbo who thinks Oprah's book club is the height of intellectual reading, for instance. I *want* to be that woman in the picture. Alas, I also want to be practical, independent, and free of the horrible constraints such a one-dimensional role would force me into. But, if given the option to become her, I would have a hard time saying no, even thought I know I'd hate it, really. This is quite an admission for me to make - I am committed to equality on (and off) the fighting field for women, and have no patience with women who buy into the "helpless little me, I'll never be able to beat the *boys*" mentality. Likewise, I find the sight of a woman pretending to be stupid so that she can hook a guy absolutely repulsive (come on, do you *really* want a boyfriend who's turned off by your intellect?). But. But... She's so beautiful, isn't she? That long golden hair, slim figure, noble face... You can just feel the classiness coming off her in waves. Inevitably, I feel small, grubby, and inelegant when face to face with something like that. I still feel so fat, and I'm naturally a brunette, and I'm klutzy. I get carried away with ideas sometimes, and I talk too much, and too loudly. She's so perfect in her distant, cool way. You feel that she would never argue about something, just smile mysteriously, and the sun would shine through her hair like a halo, and all the men in the room would cluster around her in the hope that her cool, cool smile will be bestowed upon them. She never gets toilet paper stuck on her heel, or spinach stuck between her teeth. *Her* hair comes out perfectly waved every time, and never gets frizzy or split ends. She never looks in the mirror at a fresh blemish, and wishes she could just go back to bed and hide under the covers. Life is perfect for her - her bra straps never slip, she never trips in front of someone she's trying impress, she's always picked first for everything good. She's a natural blonde - no hairdye for her, no roots ever show. She's the Ametican Idol, The World's Next Supermodel, the winning contestant on Star Search... Grrr. I bet she just smiles like that because she doesn't have anything clever to contribute to the conversation. I bet she's really kinda dumb. Yeah, that's it. And I bet if you got her into bed, she'd just lie there like a statue, waiting for you to do everything, and never showing a flicker of enthusiasm. I bet she wipes her mouth after you kiss her, and makes a faint moue of distaste at the saliva on her hand. I bet she smirks at the poor women who read "Cosmopolitan" in the faint hope that one of the articles will make them more like her, so that guys will chase after *them*, and so they won't feel invisible when she's in the room. I bet she's a horrible conversationalist, and I bet she'd leave you in a heartbeat if someone richer came along. O_o We create ideals because we want perfection in an imperfect world. We then feel inferior to those ideals, so we need to break them down so that they are not as threatening. Yes, I want to be that ideal, don't we all? But I can't hate someone because they get closer to it than I do. And I won't despise someone simply because they aren't perfect. And no, I don't mean any of the cruel things I just said about our poor beautiful woman, who is really just a slave to the Victorian ideal of the "angelic" woman, never allowed to have a bad day, or tell an off-colour joke, even if she thinks it's really funny. She's not allowed to enjoy sex, she's not even allowed to fantasize about it. The expectations surrounding her would kill a real person - at the very least they'd go mad eventually. I don't really want to *be* her, but I like some of the things her presence inspires, and I like the game of taking on the better qualities she symbolizes. But I'm not blonde. Or perfect. But I'm a cool red-head, a nut, fun at parties, and willing to give you the last dollar in my wallet. I'll laugh at your jokes, and come back with one of my own. I'd rather be your equal than your shadow. Perhaps my pre-Raphaelite inspiration should be the "Belle Dame Sans Merci". Now, THAT could be fun...
Dorsal - Ventral
Funnier than me: James Lileks disclaimer!
all words copyright Laura Mellin 2000-2005
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