Much is made these days of so-called "male privilege," an inevitable consequence of a putatively patriarchal society: men enjoy benefits which women do not. To me, this rates a "Well, maybe"; not everything identified as "privilege" is much of an advantage. One that is, I suggest, is the fact that by and large, women don't give that much of a damn what we look like, but they often find themselves jumping through hoops trying to achieve a standard of appearance which men don't have to go to much trouble to match: as long as we're not sprawled on the sofa watching sportsball, with one hand in a bag of Doritos and the other down our pants, we're golden.
I was out of Doritos when this showed up in Twitter:
This struck me as somewhat insightful: every woman, it's reasonable to assume, has at least one beauty bête noire, one part of the daily regimen that seems trickier or more difficult or downright impossible. And it's expensive, too: she's expected to have an array of beauty tools at hand, even if she has no hands at all.
Now Ms Gottlieb and I have talked shoes once or twice, and she lives in Los Angeles, where 10s are lionized and anyone under a 4 is quarantined, so I offered this feeble, if trutful, reply:
Unsurprisingly, she's harder on herself than I'd ever be:
After that, I had no choice but to withdraw; after all, she gets a closer look at the issue than I ever will.
And women did chime in with their own issues:
Then again, guys, you should not assume that they're doing all this for you. I know they're not doing it for me.
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Copyright © 2019 by Charles G. Hill