Sunday, December 21, 2008

36-24-36


I have no idea why, but those numbers popped into my head this morning. Those were the "ideal" measurements for a woman back when I was a child. How do I know that? Well, because we were told that ALL THE TIME.

It seems to me that every TV show from Petticoat Junction to the Dean Martin show had so slip in those numbers in reference to a young woman at some point. And every contestant in the Miss America or Miss Universe had her measurements announced as she high-heeled it down the runway in her bathing suit.

And when I think about that now, it just seems so ODD.

Mr. Moon and I were watching an old Andy Griffith show episode the other day and it was one where Andy was dating Miss Peggy. Now Andy didn't exactly refer to her measurements, but he did refer to her as a "fine lookin' WO-min," and she was. And I'll bet you that her measurements were indeed 36-24-36. At least when she had on a girdle, a bra, and stockings which I do believe she was wearing under her blue jeans and checked shirt when she went fishin' with the boys.
Not only was Miss Peggy a fine lookin' WO-min, she could fish like a man. Except for that part with the worms. She wasn't so great with the worms. But then again, what little woman is?

And I only bring all of this up because even though a lot has not changed in how women are treated in our society (just go watch ten minutes of MTV, or actually, don't), at least the measurements of a woman's chest, waist and hips is not generally discussed by others in polite society. Or on sitcoms and variety shows, as the case may be.

I remember feeling, even as a little girl, that these discussions of the sacred numbers were somehow demeaning and dirty. They objectified women in a way that was just creepy. And I somehow knew that I was never going to be a 36-24-36 type of women without profound undergarmenting and I also knew that was not going to happen. Girdles, like the measurements they helped to artificially create, were torturous and cruel.

And taking a woman down to the lowest common denominator- those three numbers- was torturous and cruel as well. And yet, it never seemed to occur to the men discussing those numbers that it was demeaning and weird to define a fellow-human being by her breast, waist and hip inches.

Here's another thing: 36-24-36 was like the really-pretty-girl-next-door's measurement. But a real ooh-la-la woman might have measurements like 42-22-35. The breast size was allowed to get bigger and the waist and hip measurements were allowed to be smaller but never bigger. Ever. And when the breast measurements got bigger, it was just assumed that the woman's "sex drive" (yeah, that's what they used to call it) rose proportionately. So if you were blessed with ginormous titties, then you were no doubt hot! hot! hot!

Seriously. This was a commonly held belief.

Which is still probably commonly held or else the plastic surgery industry would not be what it is today.

BUT at least we sort of pretend that what goes on in a woman's head is as least as important as what her breast-waist-hip measurements are. And at least little girls watching TV aren't being told that those three numbers are more important than the numbers she'll get on her SAT scores someday. And little boys aren't either.

Which is just as important when you get right down to it.

Biology being what it is, men will always take as a first impression of a woman the relative shape and size of her body parts. But I don't think that's the end-all and be-all of what they take away from that first impression. And at least women aren't expected to come in the one-size-fits-all scheme of things. We only need to look at the glorification of Jennifer Lopez to realize that.

Big butts can be gorgeous. Tiny breasts can be perfect. Women, like men, come in all shapes and sizes and there is room for all in the eye-of-the-beholder and his or her definition of beauty.

Things are changing. Not fast enough and the way Hillary's appearance during the campaign was constantly discussed is proof enough of that but at least the idea of a woman being president is one that is now taken as not only possible but inevitable and in the near future, perhaps.

Hopefully. And hopefully someday the exact numbers on a tape measure will be held for what they are- only good at defining what size jeans and bras we wear, not as defining how desirable we are or how sexual we are or any damn other thing.

Because women are complex creatures and trying to reduce us down (another pun!) to three numbers is ridiculous as well as wrong.

Dean Martin, bless his soul, is dead. Not sure about Miss Peggy. But I'll bet you that if she's alive, she still may not like to handle worms but she for damn sure isn't wearing a girdle under her blue jeans.

And that she's still a fine lookin' WO-min, no matter what her measurements are. Although I bet she still can't cook as well as Aunt Bee could. Wonder what Aunt Bee's measurements were?
Funny. No one ever discussed that.
They just talked about her biscuits.

But she was old and so her measurements didn't matter at all.

But that's a whole 'nother topic for a whole 'nother day.

6 comments:

  1. Thank you for telling it like it is. My big butt thanks you. I may print your post and save it for my son just as a learning tool. Because although I'd love to think things will be different by the time he's old enough to be checking out the girls, I doubt it.
    And for my daughter, if she is ever tempted to buy a padded bra.

    Yes, I occasionally long for the days when
    'the girls' pointed up instead of down, and the belly was flat and free of stretch marks, but I have to remind myself that this body has borne 2 living children, and 3 who didn't live. It has survived the ICU and the loss of good friends and family members. And perhaps it's not the 'typical beauty' but it's mine, and strangely beautiful, scars and all.

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  2. hahahaha

    wow

    Ms. Moon, GREAT rant!

    LOVE IT!

    Being defined by anything, outward appearance, label, etc hurts...

    Thanks for ranting.

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  3. So after reading this, I immediately ran to the tape measure and found out how close I am to the "perfect body". Let's just say, I'm no where close and now I'm sad. Heh, just playing. I didn't really go to the tape measure, but now I'm actually kind of thinking about it. Hummmm, maybe I should really read your this blog entry again for the moral.

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  4. Rachel- you SHOULD be proud of that body and the map it has become of where you have been. I could say so much more about this, but let me just say I'm sure it IS beautiful and I love that you recognize that.

    AJ- I'm glad you enjoyed.

    HoneyLuna- step AWAY from the tape measure, dear heart. Gorgiosity like yours cannot be measured.

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  5. these #s aggravate me more than anyone!! i hate that society/media/whoever made up 'cookiecutters' for women - everyone should try to be different and embrace what they have. big, little, tall short, whatever. argh. i've just now come to accept that i will never have boobs or a waist and will always be a little awkward/olive-oyl like. but that's okay - that's me and i like being different. i dont want to be 'perfect'.

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  6. Oh, Ms. Moon. I know exactly what you mean. And even though those numbers aren't what they once were, they are stikl floating around out there and managed to find there way to my ears as a young woman. I remember my red tape measurer and what a sense of disappoint it was for me.

    I only hope that the future will hold less and less of this.

    But, if you have seen my ranting blogs about what they put up on myspace, you know it's gonna be a while at least.

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