Now, I understand all of these “services” are voluntary but I see most of them as necessary to stay in line with my contemporaries and expectations. And to be completely honest, I feel better about myself and my appearance afterwards.
Eye of the Beholder: Vanity of Sight
As hormones started to kick in and the pretty girls were identified (for at least the next 10 years), being scrawny and boyish was bad enough. But I had to wear these thick plastic glasses too?! They were just setting me up for social failure. Beauties never wear glasses. You don’t see singers, actresses or models with glasses unless they’re playing the part of the nerdy and the less attractive. Glasses were like having braces, being flat-chested and having short hair. You just didn’t want that. Glasses did not equal attractive.
Eye of the Beholder: I Don’t Want to Look Like THAT
You’re not necessarily judging the other person. You don’t know their situation. But when you see someone else with a lot of extra fill in the blank you just might think to yourself “I don’t want to look like that.” You’re not saying that person should change or that there’s even anything wrong with their fill in the blank. But you are realizing that you’d personally like to avoid that size of a fill in the blank. You don’t think you’d “carry it well.” Arms that continue to wave after you’ve stopped, ass cheeks that spread to your hips, love handles you hate, fupas, cellulite (no explanation necessary), whatever your case might be.
Eye of the Beholder: Characteristics of Personal Self-Worth
“Personal Self-Worth”. Yes, I know it’s redundant but I think there’s usually a significant difference between how one defines oneself to others and how one defines oneself to themself. (So many “selfs”) You’re public persona is often very different from the one you face in the mirror alone in your bathroom in the morning or evening (depending on when you’re most self-reflective).
Eye of the Beholder: Brown Sugar, Can I Love You?
In Iowa (or just about anywhere else in US), I would not have been the 1st, 2nd or even 3rd person someone would look at in our group. However, in Florence, to my surprise (and that of some of my roommates…), I was often the object of attention. How odd it was to be walking to class through the market and hear “Brown Sugar, Can I love you?” in a thick Italian accent. Well of course you can’t but thanks. 
