My 13 Year-Old Self was a Douche

If I could go back in time and talk to myself at 13 (thanks, Kelle Hampton for the awesome idea – sponsored by Dove, a company owned by Unilever which also makes Axe Body Spray, the bane of my existence while pregnant and teaching high school), I would say, “Hey, it ain’t all about you all the time, you little douche.”

I wouldn’t REALLY say that to 13 year-old me.  She was a piece of work, though, that 13 year-old girl I was.  Ugly as hell.  Usually, when I look back at pictures of me when I was younger, I think, “I was too hard on myself back then.  I was actually cute.”  Not at 13.  I look at those pictures now and I think “awkward phase.”  I wanted nothing more than to look like my newly divorced dad’s 5’10”, 115 pound girlfriend, Tessa.  Getting her haircut with my moon-face and horrible eighties perm didn’t help. 

The adults in my life made it clear from a very early age that looks mattered.  A very particular kind of looks too: tall, skinny, preferably blonde.  I spent most of my life trying to be what I was not.  Most girls do this.  Dove soap (despite all of their animal testing) has not innovated a way to change that.  Their campaign makes me feel like if I’m anti-Dove “Real Beauty” (barf) campaign, then I want little girls to have low self-esteem.  “You don’t support raising the self-esteem of girls?  You’re anti-woman!”  No, I just believe that parents model self-esteem or self-loathing to their daughters.  Mothers model narcissism by reading beauty magaiznes and caring too much what people look like.  Or they model dissatisfaction with themselves by dieting, calling themselves names, and openly hating their faces and bodies.  And fathers model to young girls what is attractive by the way they treat their wives, girlfriends, and mistresses (I’m looking at YOU, Tiger Woods).

You know why I had low self-esteem as a thirteen year old?  It wasn’t because of beauty magazines or commercials for make-up or because Dove soap hadn’t yet begun campaigning to raise it.  It was because my grandma and my parents gave me the message that my body was unacceptable.  I know they meant well, they aren’t ogres, but they did it nevertheless.  My interest in fitness was encouraged by my parents and steparents, but it was never framed as, “Exercise is great for you!  You should absolutely do it.  You’ll live longer and have less illness and disease.”  It was always: “That’s a great way to lose weight.”

My mom and stepfather were very dissatisfied with their own appearances and modeled that for me.  I learned about dieting, binging, cheating, fasting, and dieting again from them.  My mom would never go out in public without her make-up on.  I remember her driving me to school once, and in her glove box she had a giant bag of cosmetics: liquid foundation, powder, eye-liner, blush, mascara, eyeshadow and lipstick.  And she put it all on as she drove me to school.  When I asked her why she was putting on full make-up to drive me to school, she said, “Because I’m VAIN, okay?!”

My father and stepfather worked in Hollywood on television shows, and there was no shortage of beautiful women there. Both men would go stupid over certain blondes and just GUSH about how GORGEOUS they were.  They were both equally scathing in their criticism of fat, ugly women.  Whenever I was around my parents’ coworkers, I knew which women they thought were “cows” or “pigs” and which women they thought were “sexy” and “beautiful.”

My husband would have the good sense to keep his mouth closed around his wife.  At a happy hour event for his work several years ago, I met three of his coworkers who were young, pretty, and single.  He’d never mentioned a single one of them to me.  Well-played, Odie.

I certainly hope my husband knows Baby V will be listening very closely to her daddy to find out what she is supposed to look like for him to think she’s beautiful.

I certainly heard that from my dad.  My mom’s obvious self-loathing and constant efforts to look better reinforced this for me.  Mom didn’t feel pretty enough for dad.  She made no secret of it.  We kids knew it too.  We all knew which of her friends she thought our father was lusting after.  She spared us no insecurity.  As a teenager, I starved on diets, binged, took laxatives, or exercised up to 5 hours a day every day, all hoping to carve myself into this ideal that my mom tried to be for my dad.  And when none of that worked long-term, I took to literally carving myself.

But I’m not going to go all “Emo” on you.

Dove’s Campaign for Real Beauty irritated me back when it launched in 2007 or so.  I used to see all of those ads in magazines and notice that all of the women were beautiful.  They had great skin, interesting features, freckles, and fantastic hair.  Some of them were overweight by conventional standards, but they were BRAVELY IN THEIR UNDERWEAR ANYWAY!  “Curvy” women can be sex objects too!  Then there were the ads that had women my mom’s and grandma’s age NAKED except for their jewelry, smiling alluringly or wisely at the camera in black and white.  See, even OLD women, excuse me, “mature” women, can be sex objects!  Displayed like so many pieces of meat.  It’s the old anti-feminist rhetoric disguised as feminist.  “I’m not being exploited!  I’m CELEBRATING myself.”  Can’t you celebrate yourself with your clothes on?  It’s so much classier.

See, you forgot, while you were feeling all empowered about promoting self-esteem, that Dove is trying to sell beauty products.  Their website will tell you that they are all about using hygiene to promote health, but what they are really selling us are products to correct all of those “imperfections” in our skin that they photo-edit OUT of their pictures and videos.  All photographers do this.

I use anti-aging products (not tested on laboratory animals).  I want to look as attractive as I can. Who doesn’t?  Beauty and youth are prized by our culture.  It is a studied and published fact that attractive people have advantages in life.  They make more money, get treated better, and marry rich men.  Dove recruits “regular women like you and me” to lecture the rest of us on how to be good mothers, (while being paid for it probably) and about how important it is to nurture the self-esteem of girls.  How important it is to teach them that looks don’t matter as much as what’s INSIDE.  Now here are a dozen photographs of people looking gorgeous.  See how Dove has carefully chosen black women, white women, Asian women, women of indeterminate race, beautiful little multi-colored children, even disabled or special needs children, and women of different ages?  See how DIVERSE they are!  How inclusive? 

It’s all very clever.  They have good people working on this.  Are we as a culture really so blind?  They are trying to sell beauty products.  If the irony weren’t so painful, it would be hilarious.  No, it’s still hilarious.

I wouldn’t go back and tell 13-year-old me anything.  She wouldn’t listen.  Teenagers think people in their thirties are sad, old, and trying to regain their misspent youth.  They think we have no wisdom to offer them.  “If you’re so smart, lady, why are you a teacher in the public high school you graduated from, living in a rental house, lecturing ME with your frown lines, saggy boobs and cellulite?”  Then she’d put her Walkman back on and crank up Madonna.

Touche, you little shit.


About Mrs Odie

Friendly Pedant; Humble Genius
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10 Responses to My 13 Year-Old Self was a Douche

  1. ASDmomNC says:

    What the hell? How were we the same 13 year old girl? My mom warped us by obsessing about thinness and dieting, yet at the same time she preached endlessly about feminism and the equal rights of women, and refused to wear makeup and nail polish. Color me confused. So now I’m an overweight 30 something closet feminist with a fierce love of makeup and nail polish. Heh.

    Anyhoo…..the real beauty campaign irks the shit out of me, too. “Can’t you celebrate yourself with your clothes on? It’s so much classier.” EPIC WIN. Photoshop use in cosmetic and skin care ads is freaking false advertising, I don’t care what anyone says. Bastards.

    I would tell my 13 year old self that our mother is crazy, and to ignore her. I would also tell her that having sex outside marriage will not make her uterus spontaneously catch fire and fall out, and that if she wants to get it on with some dude when she’s 19 or so, to go for it (but use protection please).

  2. mrsk6 says:

    So did K-Hizzle do something like “what would you say to 13 year old you?” Her idol Oprah has been asking that question of EVERY guest this season. “What would you say to xx year old you?” Barf. Is it me, or is she (KH) out of original ideas? Double barf.

  3. ugh my 13 year old self had such low self-esteem, i would have done anything (and did do plenty i’m not proud of) to keep in with the crowd is was with. I started smoking, went out with boys i didn’t even like, dyed my beautiful red hair black, wore ridiculous make-up, listened to rubbish music…
    I look back on that girl and can’t believe she grew into me!

  4. SlippidyDippidy says:

    My 13 year old self was a wannabe gangsta. I’d duck if I saw her.

  5. One of the blogs I read, written by a laid-back 50-something mom and writer, read an older book called Simple Abundance with an entry that states we should keep a picture of us when we were age 10 nearby:

    “…because age ten was probably the last time you trusted your instincts. You didn’t listen to the opinions of your mother, your sister, your friends because you had your own.
    …Try to contact the girl you once were. She’s all grown up now. She’s your authentic self and she’s waiting to remind you how beautiful, accomplished, and extraordinary you really are.”

    I like that statement “she’s your authentic self”.

    Great post–persona, l and also spot on about the reminder that it (Dove) is big marketing.

    • Mrs Odie 2 says:

      I love the book Simple Abundance. It was another my therapist recommended many years ago. I should probably dig it out of my library. I need it lately. Things have been kind of hard. I also think of this when I look at my daughter and contemplate a second child that will probably also be a daughter. I will work my damnedest to keep them happy and authentic, joyous and free, but the world will have its way with them, and it will be hard to watch.

    • Mrs Odie 2 says:

      What’s the blog you refer to? Sounds like something I’d like to read too.

  6. should read: Great post–personal and also ….
    (Husband turned out the lights on me).

  7. adrianairis says:

    The story of how I found your blog…
    I started my blog this summer.I wanted to document the 1st year of my daughter’s life since I was too young when I became a mom for the first time and well speaking of our younger-selves.. I was an idiot and I wanted to redeem myself. I now have an 18 year old, 10 year old and an almost 4 month old. I am 38 year old mother, wife and a amateur photographer. When I began my blog I quickly discover a world that I honestly did not know. To make my story short other bloggers began to share with me how my blog reminded them of KH. I thought… Who in the world is this woman. I checked her out. And yes we share a lot in details esthetically and view and write to build a mantra of a positive and healthy mind and minding the little things but when I found her blog she annoyed me. She evoked feelings of annoyance which left me thinking just one thing… Someone else out there has got to hate this woman and of course ta-da here we are. Thanks for sharing and I appreciate your language skills. I am not a native speaker of the English language and although I tend to write choppy and at times some posts look like acid trips because punctuation in English is a bitch I appreciate when others teach me the language through their writings.

    Thanks for the lesson and of course the laughter…

  8. Rosie says:

    My thriteen year old self had nerve like you wouldn’t believe. She was the master of sass, the queen of sarcasm, and didn’t care a fig what anyone thought. And she looked like a broom turned upside down.
    Ooh! Ooh! Found a better mommy-blogger than K-Hizzle. Heather Armstrong of Dooce – lots funnier(tho not as funny as Mrs O), and she actually uses her own material, instead of plagiarizing Thoreau and Shakespeare.

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