A different kind of sex education: the pain of looking good
Men often expect women to look good with no thought of how they get there. Heidi Blake and Ellen Carpenter show them.
We were sitting in Goodricke bar one dark and stormy York night when a male acquaintance said something which got us thinking. Out of nowhere he volunteered, “It’s so disgusting: my housemate doesn’t see her boyfriend for two weeks at a time, and she doesn’t shave her legs in between. I can see her hair poking through her tights. It makes me feel sick!” And from the small seed of righteous indignation he thus planted in our minds, this whole sordid scheme was soon to grow.
Photo: Rachel HollowayWhy is it, we asked ourselves, that men expect certain aesthetic standards from women without having the slightest inkling about the extremities of work and pain which go into the beauty process? When men watch a beautiful woman walk into a room, all they can see is a desirable physical product, whereas women (sad as it may be) see botox, a boob job and breathtaking over-application of make-up. So, we got to thinking, would the attitudes of our otherwise liberal male friends change if they were made to experience in full the tortuous beauty process to which women are subjected almost daily?
So it was that, with the aid of 30 disposable razors, 18 waxing strips, a pack of Poundland French knickers and a crude concoction vaguely resembling a facemask, we decided to answer this question.
Our first recruit was Sam, a rather androgynous fellow with a penchant for hair straighteners and firm-hold hair spray, who was almost unnervingly willing to take part, claiming to be sympathetic to the plight of women already, not to mention having been on huge amounts of drugs when he agreed to it. However, once we had torn the first wax strip from his leg, his confidence in his femininity dissolved into tortured shrieks, as he wailed, “I used to sympathise with women, but I’ll be a misogynist by the end of this!”
None of our subjects managed to push past the pain barrier beyond the half-way stage with the leg-waxing.
Second was Dan, perhaps the manliest of our subjects (complete with coarse facial hair, a thick Lancashire accent and a macho swagger in his step) who, contrary to our expectations, became absorbed in the process of beautification to such an extent that he emerged the only one of our four guinea pigs with faultlessly hairless legs, and was to be heard bemoaning his stubbly regrowth for days afterwards.
Then came Nicky and Raf, an inseparable duet of machismo, who cheated by using a large bottle of vodka as a makeshift anaesthetic throughout the operation. This pair began by thwarting our ruthless ambitions to cause grave pain by professing the process of waxing to be not painful in the slightest, saying, “if childbirth’s anything like this, you lot are making a fuss over nothing.” Needless to say, after the fourth or fifth strip had been torn vigorously from their legs, they were shrieking like dyed in the wool girly-boys.
Photo: Rachel HollowayIt’s no secret that men find the process of leg waxing painful, borne out as Sam punched the wall after one particularly vicious attack with a Boots Sensitive Skin waxing strip, and Dan proclaimed: “No, slow down! My heart can’t cope with this!”
More interesting, however, were the various insights which emerged during the session. John, who had managed to gain entry to our hall of pain without being roped into the process, reflected that his views on female beauty had changed as he watched his male friends being subjected to the process it entails, saying: “I think if my girlfriend stopped shaving and dressing up now I’d understand having seen what it involves.” However, before we’d had time to feel victorious over having struck such a blow for feminism, he added, “But that’s only because I love her. Don’t expect me to sleep with any random mingers out of pity!” Not quite the outcome we were looking for, but a step in the right direction nonetheless.
Aside from Dan, whose meticulous nature and surprising enthusiasm led him to spend upwards of an hour and a half painstakingly removing every last hair from his bony little legs, none of our subjects managed to push past the pain barrier beyond the half-way stage with the leg-waxing. However, despite admitting that the process was painful and arduous, our subjects refused to accept it was as bad as we’d made out. As we lied that this was a process that women go through not just once but on a daily basis, we began to realise that perhaps not all of our techniques were as justified for the experiment as we initially claimed.
Dan was heard on more than one occasion, having stuffed his bra, to declare, “Gosh, it’s quite nice having titties”, and inviting people to feel them.
Chief amongst these was the homemade facemask we prepared for them, composed mainly of mulched avocado, glutinous honey, flour, oatmeal, sugar and a few glugs of vinegar for good measure. It was this that raised the most objections, and perhaps fairly, as Sam protested “I feel like I’ve got Shrek’s jizz all over my face!” It was at this point that we realised the experiment was, for us, more about taking our pseudo-sadistic revenge on the opposite sex for the pressure we feel they place upon us than about scientific curiosity.
Having smeared the concoction liberally over their freshly shaved faces, we moved onto the process of dressing. Motivated by our sadistic frenzy, earlier in the day, we had purchased the itchiest looking red-lace French knickers and and the most vicious control-top tights on the market. On first sight of the red lacies, Sam declared: “I can’t wear those; my knob’s going to pop out!” A logistical difficulty us women don’t have to face, but nonetheless we pressed on. Nicky – the most obdurate of our male guinea pigs – declared them to be not uncomfortable in the slightest, which momentarily disheartened us, until we discovered he was wearing them over the top of a pair of soft cotton boxer shorts. Hardly in the spirit of the exercise.
The next challenge for our soon-to-be-reformed male chauvinists was the donning of the brassiere, a task which some took to with some relish than others. Dan, for example, enlisted the help of John (our objective onlooker) in stuffing his bra, and was heard on more than one occasion having done so declaring “Gosh, it’s quite nice having titties”, and inviting people to feel them. Nicky and Raf, however, couldn’t quite believe the feat of engineering involved in putting on a bra, even declaring that the process was more painful than waxing. At least they felt they gained some insight on the behaviour of the opposite sex (however erroneous), saying: “This must be why you lot always want to live together. Is it so you can all meet up in the corridor in the morning and do up each other’s bras?”
Photo: Rachel HollowayAnother amusing spectacle was that of four swarthy gentlemen attempting to squeeze themselves into the control-top tights we had so thoughtfully purchased for them (particularly useful for Nicky, whose fresher’s beer paunch nevertheless showed unappealingly through the white cotton dress we put him in). Dan was touchingly keen to learn the tricks of the trade, as our more benevolent photographer spent some time showing him the technique of bunching tights in the hand before pulling them onto the leg. Sadly, even this cautionary action failed to prevent him from laddering them while violently dragging them over a horny toenail.
All that was left to complete the transformation were the skirts and tops we’d carefully picked out for them from our own wardrobes, and it was not without consternation that we heard their proclamations of “I look like somebody’s aunt!” or “I feel like a prostitute!”.
Then onto the make up – potentially the most time-consuming aspect of the process. By this stage even we, hardened glamour queens that we may be, were growing weary of the process of beautification, but we were heartened to notice that our chaps had been transformed into discerning charges, as they implored us to “go easy on the eyeliner!” and to ensure that their foundation was applied evenly. Dan, however, having become increasingly self-assured in the pursuit of physical perfection, declared” “I don’t need foundation – I don’t have any blemishes! Do I?”
After the process was complete, we took the opportunity to discuss gender stereotyping with them while they were still attired in the get-up of the other sex. Nicky and Raf maintained that the process wasn’t as arduous or painful as they’d been led to believe, though Dan – who seemed to have become completely immersed in his feminine role by this stage in the evening – pointed out that none of them could appreciate how tiresome the process could become when repeated daily, a point which was acknowledged by all.
Despite this, they maintained that the process is something which rightly comes with the package of femininity, just as hunter-gathering or jousting for sport comes hand in hand with the ownership of a penis. They were also at pains to proclaim their own innocence in the placing of expectations upon women, attributing it to the pressures imposed by the likes of Heat and Glamour magazine, as well as to general female bitchiness and paranoia.
We were, then, forced to question the extent to which expectations of beauty are self-imposed. The women in the room then begain to unpack the sources of motivation behind the imperative to look good 24 hours a day, every day. Why is it, we asked ourselves, that we feel we will be taken less seriously as people if we are not as close to aesthetic perfection as it is possible to be on a student budget? Particularly since it quickly emerged that none of the men in room could indentify whether we were wearing makeup, and if so how much and where. Could it be that the beauty process is almost entirely self-imposed?
But then we thought back to Nick’s admission that he would be reluctant to become involved with a ‘minger’ who failed to meet his pre-supposed physical standards. And of course the comment which inspired this whole article, reaffirmed our belief that whatever the pressures placed on women by women, men are heavily implicated in the creation of unrealistic expectations. Afterall, surely the bitchiness over beauty which exists between women is a product of patriarchal expectations; perhaps a throwback to a time when women were made to feel that physical beauty was all they had to offer in a society where a woman’s chief goal was marriage.
So in the end, a salutory lesson was learned by all. Although John has no current plans to “sleep with any minger out of pity”, at least his girlfriend might have an easier time in future. And a swift kick in the crotch reminded Nicky and Raf that childbirth is no laughing matter – and that women on a mission will stop at nothing to see their ends achieved.
Some choice moments from the evening’s revelry
Heidi: “We don’t want to waste good wax.”
Dan: “Yes we do! I don’t care about dying kids in Africa, I care about my legs!”
Sam: “I need to get battered to regain some dignity after this.”
Raf: “Dan, your leg looks like a chihuahua that’s been on fire.”
Dan: “What happens if the hair removal cream starts chafing and going all red and then my leg falls off?”
John: “I know what unshaven legs look like. I have an aunt who’s Italian.”
Sam: “My skin feels remarkably good after that face mask.”
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I used to Deputy Edit the paper in 2002/03 and I was just coming back to the site out of curiosity and I thought I’d congratulate you on a very entertaining feature, it’s a shame there weren’t more pictures though.
I’ve put a link up to to the photos. Writing my dissertation has sadly taken priority over online pictures this edition!
Emma, Web Ed.
i really enjoyed this feature well done to all involved
and that sam noble chap is a damn handsome young man
Very insightful- but you should’ve done their eyebrows, which has got to be one of the most tedious and annoying parts of the beauty regime!!