Tis the season for friends, family, and beautiful holiday dinners that remind us how fortunate we truly are. Only in America can we pay homage to what we have by stuffing ourselves as full as the turkey we just ate. So if I read the headline: "Tips for Shedding That Thanksgiving Weight" one more time, I might just lose both my dinner and appetite entirely, though it won't be because I'm interested in the weight loss.
From playground banter, to casual conversation and dieting suggestions, society continues to define women numerically and it's absolutely disgusting. It was one of the first lessons I learned; to never ask a woman her age. I can remember thinking then: "What's the problem? She's beautiful now, and always will be." Yet as this rule grew to encompass weight, pant size, shirt size, income and GPA, there was no question as to where the problem lay: in their desire to remain younger, lighter and smaller, women everywhere have forgotten that they are worth so much more.
When subject to this forbidden inquiry, they find answering to be painful; an indication, perhaps, of how many wrinkles lay upon their face. When approached with the others, they may choose to withhold a response entirely. After all, in present day, your value as an employee surely equals that as a human being, right?
Wrong. So, very, very wrong. Not just in principle, but in the knowledge that we've allowed numbers to become the measure of our self-worth. And how sad, to understand that this pattern is sure to repeat unless we begin asking the better questions.
So, to women everywhere, I ask: how many years of awe-inspiring, gut-wrenching, tearful, joyous and bittersweet moments have made you the beautifully complex, unstoppable boss that you are? Contrary to popular belief, the answer does matter, for it's not wrinkles, but these years of experience that line your face. They're a map of your exquisite journey, forever etched into your skin. On how many occasions have you gathered to celebrate your love for friends and family over a dinner so delightful you couldn't help but take another bite? That same scale couldn't possibly weigh the love that those who hosted have for you. If you had a dime for every time you compared yourself to an idyllic celebrity, would you be rich? I should hope not, seeing as how you already are.
You're the only you there's ever going to be. Of all the gems in the world, you are a kind of your own. Not just rare, but incapable of replication. Now how do you put a price; a number of any kind, on that?