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Staci Backauskas

When I couldn’t find a job after getting my journalism degree, I went back to school and got an EMT license – a pivotal choice that created the set point for my life. I caught a lot of flack for putting the employment search on hold. Some said I was impatient; others accused me of being too ar...

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Class, Sass and Self-Esteem

Staci B

For twenty-five years, neon orange shorts and tight white t-shirts have been the uniform of choice for women slinging beer and wings in Florida. Evidently, that’s not brought enough class to a state lampooned for everything from hanging chads to Rhonda Storms. Now we have O’Boobigans – the latest addition to pub culture in Pinellas County. In all fairness, they are different from the infamous owl.  Their shorts are green.

I shouldn’t be surprised.  After all, MJ Rose has parlayed infamy out of his holiday Jingle Jugs contests and Joe Redner almost won a seat on the Hillsborough County Commission.  Women may no longer believe that happiness comes from baking meatloaves and pies, but must we see the 21st century road to Nirvana as being paved with bigger breasts, Botoxed wrinkles and a tighter butt? 

It would be easy to blame men for the female state of mind.  Afterall, white men have been running this country and its supporting economic stanchions since the beginning of time.  But the truth is, it’s our own darned fault.  The first year MJ Rose did a Jingle Jugs contest he had over 100,000 videos from women telling their tales of woe about how their lives would miraculously be perfect if only they could have bigger breasts.   

Are we so identified with our bodies that entities like Hooters and O’Boobigans whisper to us like the mythic mermaid to the sailors of yore – No need to feel bad about yourself sweetheart . . . slip into these shorts, slide this t-shirt on and watch your self-esteem soar as our customers leer appreciatively at your bulging breasts and firm young tuchas. 

Here’s the thing – self-esteem isn’t related to how others value you, it’s about how you perceive your own worth.  As long as you’re peering through the lens of what others say you must be in order to be “valuable” or “worthy,” you won’t ever know the peace that comes from loving who you are. 

It’s easy to believe  propaganda that says unless you’re perky, firm and smooth, love and happiness will elude you.  It’s much more challenging to open to the truth that you are loveable, valuable and worthy as you are in this moment.  You have that choice.  The only thing preventing you from making it is believing that you don’t.

I can hear the argument now:  But men only want a woman with humongous breasts and no crow’s feet.  What do YOU want?  Allowing your happiness to be dependent on what your body looks like or the opinions of others is ridiculous.  Feeling good,  merely because others say your body rocks, is one-dimensional happiness that allows you to think you can experience “love” with someone who only wants to be with you if you’re a 44D. There are plenty of jobs, relationships and experiences out there that will support you in loving who you are when you’re ready.

Here are the options – Tow the party line regarding what you “should” look like.  Express your dissatisfaction – picketing, boycotting, editorializing – with the various industries that “exploit” women.  Or deal with the truth that lies beneath the facts – when you love yourself for who you are, you avoid making make choices that feel bad. 

In the end, the sailors always crashed against the rocks while the mermaid slipped away unscathed.  Continuing on a path where “feeling good” requires orange nylon and silicone leads to the same fate.  If you haven’t found a way to love yourself before your nipples hit your knees and the Botox evaporates, no one will be there to hear your screams either.