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It starts young. Before we even fully understand our bodies or voices, we are taught how to “fix” ourselves. A little girl hears that she would be prettier if she smiled more. A teenager learns that beauty is pain as she waxes, plucks, straightens, or diets to fit in. A woman, even at the height of her professional or personal success, is reminded that aging is a flaw and weight gain is failure. These lessons are subtle and sometimes even well intentioned, but the message is clear: beauty, as defined by a narrow societal lens, is currency and you must pay to play.
I have spent years investing in this illusion. Skin care routines that promise glow and youth. Hair products that tame and transform. Makeup kits with unspoken instructions on how to look effortlessly beautiful. These purchases were not just for fun or selfexpression. They were survival strategies. Being well groomed was equated with being worthy of attention, respect, or even kindness. But the financial cost is only the surface. The real toll is emotional, mental, and deeply personal.
For years, I believed that my value rose or fell with how closely I resembled the models I saw in magazines and on social media. I spent hours comparing myself to women with different bodies, different genes, different lives. No matter what I did, I always felt like I was falling short. This relentless pursuit of perfection left me anxious and self-critical. I would wake up dreading how I looked on camera or in the mirror. I measured my worth not by what I had accomplished, but by whether my skin was clear or if my stomach looked flat that day.
The saddest part is that this mindset is not unique. It’s almost a shared experience among women. I’ve sat with friends as they agonized over wrinkles that no one else could see. I’ve seen smart, capable women second guess themselves because they gained a few pounds. I’ve watched teenage girls cry over photos that didn’t get enough likes. This collective insecurity has been manufactured and monetized by an industry that thrives on our self-doubt.
The global beauty industry is worth over 500 billion dollars. That figure alone should make us pause. Who benefits from women believing they need to be fixed? Who profits when we are convinced that our natural state is never enough? The truth is that there’s a whole machine designed to keep us chasing unattainable standards, and the more we chase, the more we lose time, confidence, money, and sometimes even health.
But it doesn’t have to be this way.
My turning point came slowly, and not in one dramatic moment. It began with questioning the rules. Who decided thin equals beautiful? Why are stretch marks seen as flaws when they tell stories of growth and life? Why is gray hair embraced on men but concealed on women? The more I asked these questions, the more I saw the cracks in the illusion.
Today, I try to be more forgiving with myself. I still enjoy beauty rituals, but they no longer feel like obligations. I allow myself to age. I wear makeup when I want to, not when I feel pressured to. And I surround myself with images and people who reflect diverse kinds of beauty different shapes, sizes, skin tones, scars, and smiles. There is a quiet kind of power in that choice.
If we want to change the world for the next generation of girls, we need to dismantle the idea that beauty has a singular definition. We need to show them that they are more than their reflection. That joy, strength, kindness, creativity, and resilience are just as radiant as any glow up. We need media and brands to represent real women and celebrate diversity not just as a marketing trend, but as a cultural shift.
Because when women stop shrinking themselves to fit an image, they begin to take up the space they truly deserve. And that kind of beauty is revolutionary.
Let us rewrite the narrative not to tell women they shouldn’t care about beauty, but to remind them that their worth was never meant to be measured by it.