Let’s all suffer for beauty

I’ve always resented the inventions that supposedly make women “prettier”. How much pain, time and money have they cost women throughout the ages?

I’ve always wished people could be happy to leave well enough alone, and that makeup, cosmetic surgery and beauty treatments never existed. I resent having to put in so much effort to look good.


And yet, because all these inventions and implements are in place and have become the norm, I must conform to standards or be overlooked.

To give you a visual image of what I mean, let’s talk about bound feet in ancient China. It was considered beautiful for women to have ridiculously small feet. Females had to endure the pain of having their feet broken and mangled through their lives.

Bound feet

Imagine yourself living in that era. As a girl, you would want to have tiny, mangled feet so you can look as “beautiful” as other girls, to be an object of envy and admiration rather than to be discriminated against or overlooked.

But wouldn’t you wish that the practice never existed in the first place so your feet can grow normally without you feeling the pressure to conform?

But, the way it was, you could have happy feet and be ugly or tortured feet and be admired. Either way, it sucks.

Unfortunately, we still have what I consider barbaric practices today to mould people into societal standards of beauty. Plastic surgery, tattooing, waxing. They are all barbaric because they cause pain.


Sure, everyone has a choice whether to do it or not. But when everyone is doing it and you don’t, you lose out. You’ll find it harder to get jobs and find partners or just fit in. Your self-esteem will plunge and life will be more miserable.

And when your naked photos accidentally get leaked a la Cecilia Cheung, you get criticised by the whole world for not having put yourself under the torture of waxing your privates.

Cecilia Cheung

There are all these people who self-righteously claim that inner beauty triumphs over everything and that painful beauty procedures are dumb. I’m sure even they cringed at those photos.

These people go around criticising celebrities who go for plastic surgery and yet expect women to magically have hairless privates and flawless physical beauty.

There’s no such thing as natural beauty.

Cosmetic surgery existed long before anaesthesia was invented. (I suppose we can count ourselves lucky that those days are past.)

Besides the ancient Chinese binding their feet, the Maori carved up their faces with sharpened bones and applied dye on the wounds to create elaborate patterns. Burmese tribal women collapsed their collar bones to create long necks.

Long neck

I think the long neck thing is still happening today. The tattooing too, with less painful methods.

In the past, painful beauty practices reflected the status of those who were able to do them. Being able to mutilate yourself was an enviable luxury. It’s still the same way today, seeing as how plastic surgery costs the skies.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE WORLD? Who the devil invented these practices in the first place? I wish people would just leave things alone and stop coming up with bizarre ideas for making humans look “better”.

Aren’t we good enough as we are?

Putting on makeup

Unfortunately, we all have to conform to all these crazy standards in order to ease into society better.

Everyone conforms to some standard or other to varying degrees. Some are easier to follow (like makeup and hair cuts) while others are tougher (like big boobs).

But everyone must conform to at least something, which is the whole problem. It’s not easy being the person who gets stared at and pointed at just because you refuse to get a Brazillian wax.

You must suffer, either now or later.

I will state for the record that I opt for beauty. I just wish the option didn’t exist. That’s all.

I need bigger boobs

I have two minutes to blog today, so here’s another archived entry. It’s quite interesting (for myself) to read my old writings and laugh at my state of mind back then.

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The following post first appeared on Sheylara.com on Mar 25, 2004.

I need bigger boobs

I am quite happy today, disregarding the fact that my boobs are not performing to standard, but, you see, my happiness has something to do with boobs. In a way.

If you’re not a hermit, which I assume by brilliant Sherlock-ly deduction that you’re not, based on the fact that you’re reading my blog, then you would have noticed that cosmetic surgery is on the rise.

More and more beauty salons are springing up and bombarding us with sleazy ads on MRT trains of models with their assets spilling out onto your lap. Magazines and newspapers revisit the subject of cosmetic surgery every month. More women are admitting to having “done it”. More cosmetic surgeons are buying mansions and Porshes.

All that, in itself, is unremarkable. What’s remarkable is that fewer and fewer people are viewing the act as taboo or shameless or [insert bad adjective yourself because I’m too lazy to think another one up].

In the first place, what is so wrong with cosmetic surgery? Let us examine the classic arguments against it:

  1. You should be happy with what God gave you.
  2. Beauty comes from within.
  3. Men should always keep the toilet seat down.

I’ve always wanted to tell the people who spout these gems to shove it up their nostrils. Now I can.

Shove it up your nostrils because:


NOBODY is happy with what God gave them. Not even you. Do you want to know what God gave you? God gave you an infant’s body with cute baby human parts and a dumb baby brain. What the hell are you doing changing all that? How DARE you grow up and how DARE you go to school and modify the dumb baby brain God gave you?

I’ll give you a concession. Let’s assume that growing up is part of God’s plans for you. Fine. Then why do you go to the hospital when you have cancer (or SARS or a bunion)? God gave you the cancer/SARS/bunion. You should jolly well lie around at home all day and give thanks because you’re going to meet Him soon.

And if half your face gets burnt off in a fire, ask your doctors not to fix it because you’re perfectly happy looking like Freddy Krueger.


It’s not like you’ve never admired beautiful things and (outwardly) beautiful people. And, like it or not, you can’t help but to favour beautiful things/people a little more at first sight.

And EVERYONE wants to be a little more beautiful on the outside and a little more favoured by other people. Otherwise, you wouldn’t go shopping for nice clothes. You wouldn’t go to the salon to get a nice haircut. You wouldn’t spend half your salary buying goo to slather on your face in the hope that skincare and makeup can help you look like Claudia Schiffer’s navel.

You would go to work carrying an NTUC plastic bag instead of a Hugo Boss brief case or Gucci handbag. You would stop shaving and stop buying pimple cream and stop going to the gym to get that nicely toned body.

Why do you do any or all of these things if you don’t want to look good on the outside? So, you go ahead and get those fake eyelashes and I’ll get my new nose, thank you.


Who the hell cares? Women should stop being lazy and put the seat down yourselves.

Now that I have presented my arguments, I can explain why I am happy. I’m happy because I believe that, with the help of the media, there are now fewer bigots on earth who would point their fingers at women who go for cosmetic surgery, accuse them of witchcraft and burn them at the stake.

Which means that I can start planning my shopping list of new body parts and stop worrying about people accusing me of being an evil temptress whose plan is to seduce all men to their doom with my newly acquired body-to-die-for.

Now, all I need is a brilliant scheme to get the money to fund my shopping spree, and to find a reputable surgeon who won’t make me look like Michael Jackson.

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Afterword: No, I still haven’t gotten any surgery done because no one would donate to my boob fund. And I was wrong. The number of bigots against cosmetic surgery doesn’t seem to have decreased over the last four years.