I'm a pretty vain guy. But only my closest friends have noticed how much I glance at my image in the mirror or how I'm meticulous about my hair or how I'm self-conscious about my body, especially my large nipples.
I remember learning about negative body image in ninth-grade health. I've forgotten almost everything I learned in that class, like I forgot almost everything about our D.A.R.E. program. But the weeks devoted to eating disorders, body dysmorphia and our conceptions of beauty stuck with me. Perhaps because of my subconscious vanity I was interested in what could be causing it.
Two of my housemates are training for the marathon. Another is in a step aerobics class. Some of my housemates make daily trips to the gym. After all that, they still complain about their love handles, their curves and their looks. Their self-deprecation depresses me not only because it reminds me of my own faults but because my best friends don't consider themselves as wonderful as I do.
But college is an odd place, especially here, where the hookup culture so deeply ingrained. To me, the idea of hooking up to fill a void left by a former lover or created by our own insecurities just enhances the loneliness we were trying to forget. And I can't imagine anyone's body image benefiting in the long run from a one-night stand.
Our obsession with beauty makes sense, though. We're brainwashed to have artificial standards of beauty by mainstream media. We see commercials and read ads and watch shows that — often subconsciously — glorify skinny women. I'm from Los Angeles, where every other person is an actor. Too many times have I heard the story about the talented actress who would be a star if she lost 20 pounds. And I thought I had gotten away from this superficiality.
We've come to acknowledge the ubiquity of these false ideals in our media. I remember the Dove commercial a few years back that showed "real women" instead of skinny supermodels. But realizing these distorted standards are everywhere doesn't stop us from subliminally buying into these messages.
It's especially sad when I encounter children with these ridiculous ideas of perfection. One of my professors told us about her daughter, a sweet, bespectacled six-year-old who didn't think she was pretty because "the Disney princesses don't wear glasses!" Chris Rock just released a documentary called "Good Hair." Rock says that the movie was inspired by his young daughter, who didn't consider her curly, bushy hair to be "good." These types of feelings are everywhere. We're all subject to them.
On the other hand, I've talked to a few friends who admire people who take the time to exercise and stay fit. "It demonstrates a certain level of discipline and maturity," one of my housemates said.
But that doesn't change the fact that too many of my friends, male and female, focus on the way they look. I've found a significant number of guys who have a negative body image as well. These messages are affecting everyone. Then again, shows like "The King of Queens" and even "Family Guy" show beautiful women marrying less-than-ideal men.
We all have these ideas about what's pretty, what's good and what's ideal. And we all have such high expectations for ourselves, especially as Tufts students, who seem to have an unnatural drive to be great.
Being great isn't so much about how we look but how we feel. And it seems like we've been told this from the very start. (After all, Aladdin was a prince on the inside, and Fiona fell in love with the ogre Shrek!). But it doesn't hurt to say it again. We should all take Jessie's advice from Monday: We'll be OK, even if we have large nipples.
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Griffin Pepper is a senior majoring in political science. He can be reached at Griffin.Pepper@tufts.edu.
