Over the course of 64 years (and still), I have encountered so many women (including my still lovely ex-wife) in person and in writing who struggle with their looks. It seems to be an eternal theme that crosses generations. So, I decided to write this humble piece in reply.
There are some who would say I can’t write about women’s feelings because I am a man. A patronizing old, white man. I note their objecions, but I disagree. I believe humanity always trumps gender.
We live in an artificial culture created and controlled by advertisers. Not only do they sell us stuff, they convince us that we need it. Women are perfect targets for them.
So they have created impossible standards for women to live up to. You must always look like you are 25, young and thin. They tell you this is the key to being desired, even loved. As it’s impossible to be young and thin forever, they just happen to have the products that will “help” you. They want your minds so they can profit by manipulating them. They do a great job of it.
So the key to loving your bodies and yourselves is to take back your minds. This is difficult. You are bombarded with a barrage of words and images that say you are not good enough. If only you were younger, thinner, shaped like Barbie, not greying, had longer legs, bigger *******, wore a size 2, you would be happy, and — of course — men would desire you. You would never be traded in for a younger, sleeker model. So many insecurities to exploit.
But consider the difference between beauty and Beauty. Beauty is human, individual and eternal; beauty is abstract, mass and reliant on current tastes.
I have known many women of all shapes, sizes and ages who were Beautiful. That Beauty was expressed from their hearts through their faces and eyes. They radiated it. It was not dependent on my or any other man’s approval. It just was. So I know this can be done.
Fashion changes so there will always be new things to sell. To the current ad masters, the Gibson girls of the late 19th century would now be called fat. Sell them a diet plan and gym membership. The angular loveliness of the Venus de Milo too cold and boyish. Sell her cosmetics and plastic surgery. Mona Lisa, a dumpy Italian girl. So many things to sell her.
And then there is that intense desire to please men that begins with daddy. I often hear its echo even in the strident voices of the most ardent feminists. The advertisers trade on that. That’s deep. That’s very hard to overcome. That’s both an individual and a cultural problem.
But many women never seem to consider that a great many men aren’t dumb enough to buy the 25 and thin forever image and don’t really demand to be constantly pleased. They might actually be looking for intelligence, heart, affection and respect instead of a perfect ***. Not all, often not the young, but many.
At some point, you have to say no and mean it. You are not your age, dress size, cup size or waist size. Those are just outward manifestations of the true you. If someone rejects you on the basis of such ephemeralities, you are better off without them. You have to take control of your soul. No one can give you that except yourself. You have to live with yourself just as men have to live with themselves. Again, humanity trumps gender.
I unabashedly love women. They have been one of the great delights of my life. I love the difficulties and the differences. What a woefully dreary world it would be if men and women were they same. So, it pains me to see so many women in so much pain.
You are, first of all, a person and that is worth insisting upon. Insist. Demand. Escape, if necessary. Be the only you you can ever truly be. Then you will feel pretty. And you will be as pretty as you feel.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5dbshnvztGA

  ~mce

Ek sehmi si khwaish dabi rehti hai palko talle,
ek nayaab pankho ki talaash hai shayad usse..
Aksar khamoshi Ke lafzon Mei pucha karti hai,
"Aye dost, itna bata, kis gunaah Ka illzam hai mujhpe?"

---------
A beautiful English translation by fellow poetess Sukeerti:

A scared little wish stays embedded underneath the lashes of my eyes;
Perhaps, it's searching for a pair of flight feathers- rare and precious,
As often, in lyrics enclosed by quietude, this wish questions me-
"O friend of mine, please let me know, what sin am I a convict of?"

PS: Do check out her work; they seldom fail to touch you deep down.
Her profile: http://hellopoetry.com/sukeerti/

हो गुनाहगार भी कोई तो,
तक्क़लुफ ना करें,
मैँ भी अपने दामन मेँ थोड़े दाग रखता हुँ ।
कोई भूखा अगर मिलेँ तो,
उसे बहला सकूँ,
मैँ अपने बटुए मेँ रोटी और साग रखता हुँ।
करेँगेँ मजहबोँ की बाते फुरसत मेँ,
मैँ अपने दिल मेँ हिन्दोँस्तान रखता हुँ।
क़ाफिर की इबादत हुँ, शायर की माशूका,
कर दे जो हरपल को रंगीन,
मैँ वो धुँआ हुँ।
हर एक कदम पर दुनिया कहती हैँ,
तू क्या हैँ?
और मैँ हर बार कहता हुँ,
सबके दरमियाँ हुँ मैँ,
लेकिन कैसे बताऊँ ?
क्या हुँ मैँ?
सुनहरी सरज़मीँ मेरी, रुपहला आसमाँ मेरा,
मगर तुम अब तक नहीँ समझें,
ठिकाना है कहाँ मेरा?
क़ाफिर की इबादत हुँ, शायर की माशूका,
कर दे जो हरपल को रंगीन,
मैँ वो धुँआ हुँ।
हुँ मैँ तेरी मुट्ठी मेँ,
खोल अपनी मुट्ठी,
तेरे सामने हुँ मैँ,
हाँ मैँ वही हुँ,
मैँ धुँआ हुँ!
शफ़्फाक हैँ,
फूल हैँ,दीपक हैँ, चाँद भी है,
मगर इनसे दूर कहीँ मैँ भी हुँ,
मैँ वही धुँआ हुँ।
फर्श और अर्श के दरमियाँ मत ढूँढ मुझे,
तू जिसे ढूँढ रहा है,
मैँ तेरे अंदर हुँ,
मैँ धुआँ हुँ।
क़ाफिर की इबादत हुँ, शायर की माशूका,
कर दे जो हरपल को रंगीन,
मैँ वो धुँआ हुँ।

Unke, nigahon, se nikali, jo teer
Dil se, ** gaye, bas hum, fakir

Aasman mein, saje, kahkashan
Nek, iradon se, hua, phir nikaah

Khwab aur haqueekat, ki hui, takkar
Bechara, dil ka mausam, hua patjhar

Unke, zubaan se, ab, nikalte, hai  teer
Aur, ab,  ** gaye hai, hum,  jeb se fakir

One day I thought, does dreams are important to fly?

Started thinking.....
Birds have wings and they touch the sky, copter has fan then they ply.
Can I have anything, so I can fly?
I neither have wings nor fan, shall i continue or drop the plan?

Little confused.

One day I got a dream that I am flying higher and higher,
I woke up and found myself on bed, I said Oh! dream you are lier.

I want to fly when I discussed with dad,
He reacted suddenly and said are you mad?

what to do, what to not, poured a water in my thirsty throat..
Thinking, I am one in millions crowd, what to do so dad feel proud.

He said to me are you mad? I will surely fly my beloved dad..

Later..
going deeper and deeper like a creeper in a book i got a line,
It really changed mind of mine.

Line was...
If your dreams are bound then you are on ground,
if you dream high you touch the sky.

I shouted yes this is the swing, for which i searched everything

Now I found the answer..

when to laugh, when to cry.
when to wet, when to dry,
when to quiet and when to scream,
How to sleep and how to Dream

It was the time when i found the Treasure,
Now I am happy and living in pleasure.

Oh my dad now I can clearly see,
Success was locked till, but now I found the Key.

Now I will touch the sky, because I got a answer **How to FLY