SL056 MW
The Onslaught campaign ad, made by Dove, a cosmetics company, ironically exposes the ways in which the beauty industry, through the use of media, has influenced society's perception of what beauty is. That has specially had an impact on how women view their aesthetics, since they're constantly being targeted by cosmetics companies and fashion brands to look and dress in certain ways. Not to abide by those beauty conventions is to live under the manufactured threat of being less than. In a frantic attempt to give this situation a solution, the ad ends with an appeal to parents [and I dare to say other family members, too] to talk to their daughters about beauty before the beauty industry, channeled through conventional and social media, does.
As for me, I have always meant to tell my once almost-girlfriend how beautiful she was. But as much as I wanted to, her child-like face glowing under the sunshine made me grow weak inside and concealed my words within my mind. Her countenance, a reflection of all I thought of her, kept me wondering night and day how one smile could weaken the knees of this brother and prevent me from walking any further.
Everyday, the anxiety of looking at her again filled my heart with gladness. As I contemplated the body in which she was wrapped up as a gift to the eyes of every observer, I couldn’t help but wonder how intricately designed she was.
Her smile, blooming from her eyes down to her mouth, gave a sneak peak into the story of one whose path was never short of trials yet, always exceeding in joy and love. She was someone I loved!
I wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, but I always thought it too obvious for her not to notice. To say she was pretty, I often thought, was an unnecessary redundancy, so I refrained from letting her know and avoided being called silly. “She surely knows how appreciative I am of her kindness and empathy. Should she not be aware of her own beauty?”
Apparently, though, to my shame and regret, it was never that obvious nor clear for her that what I appreciated in her body was what she already had. Little did I know that underneath her naturally gifted body, was a weak mind and a fragile soul, later held hostage like a will-less doll to every wave of opinions and beauty conventions.
So it was that day after day she started loving less of her unique attributes and as a marionette, she donated her limbs to the art of self-rejection that some have deceitfully called, fashion.
I, a once passionate appreciator of her beauty and a conscious observer of her character, could never grasp the grounds on which she stood in discontentment with her own appearance. So much was her inaptitude to accept herself as she had always been that she tried to correct her "imperfections" with pierced ears, shaded eyes, painted lips and dyed hair. All of this in an attempt to make herself worthy of care. If only she knew she already had what she was trying to attain. If only she knew I didn't care about her tangled and unbrushed hair. If only she knew that what she counted as physical flaws and imperfections were attributes that gained her everybody's admiration. If only she would remove the shades off her eyes to see her true beauty come alive... Maybe, just maybe, she would attest to the fact that one's true beauty is neither found in models nor in bottles.
The Onslaught campaign ad, made by Dove, a cosmetics company, ironically exposes the ways in which the beauty industry, through the use of media, has influenced society's perception of what beauty is. That has specially had an impact on how women view their aesthetics, since they're constantly being targeted by cosmetics companies and fashion brands to look and dress in certain ways. Not to abide by those beauty conventions is to live under the manufactured threat of being less than. In a frantic attempt to give this situation a solution, the ad ends with an appeal to parents [and I dare to say other family members, too] to talk to their daughters about beauty before the beauty industry, channeled through conventional and social media, does.
As for me, I have always meant to tell my once almost-girlfriend how beautiful she was. But as much as I wanted to, her child-like face glowing under the sunshine made me grow weak inside and concealed my words within my mind. Her countenance, a reflection of all I thought of her, kept me wondering night and day how one smile could weaken the knees of this brother and prevent me from walking any further.
Everyday, the anxiety of looking at her again filled my heart with gladness. As I contemplated the body in which she was wrapped up as a gift to the eyes of every observer, I couldn’t help but wonder how intricately designed she was.
Her smile, blooming from her eyes down to her mouth, gave a sneak peak into the story of one whose path was never short of trials yet, always exceeding in joy and love. She was someone I loved!
I wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, but I always thought it too obvious for her not to notice. To say she was pretty, I often thought, was an unnecessary redundancy, so I refrained from letting her know and avoided being called silly. “She surely knows how appreciative I am of her kindness and empathy. Should she not be aware of her own beauty?”
Apparently, though, to my shame and regret, it was never that obvious nor clear for her that what I appreciated in her body was what she already had. Little did I know that underneath her naturally gifted body, was a weak mind and a fragile soul, later held hostage like a will-less doll to every wave of opinions and beauty conventions.
So it was that day after day she started loving less of her unique attributes and as a marionette, she donated her limbs to the art of self-rejection that some have deceitfully called, fashion.
I, a once passionate appreciator of her beauty and a conscious observer of her character, could never grasp the grounds on which she stood in discontentment with her own appearance. So much was her inaptitude to accept herself as she had always been that she tried to correct her "imperfections" with pierced ears, shaded eyes, painted lips and dyed hair. All of this in an attempt to make herself worthy of care. If only she knew she already had what she was trying to attain. If only she knew I didn't care about her tangled and unbrushed hair. If only she knew that what she counted as physical flaws and imperfections were attributes that gained her everybody's admiration. If only she would remove the shades off her eyes to see her true beauty come alive... Maybe, just maybe, she would attest to the fact that one's true beauty is neither found in models nor in bottles.
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