Women, it seems, will do a lot to be classified as great beauties. Being beautiful, however, is not all fun and games. Here’s why.


When you’re beautiful, people generally assume life is all sunshine and roses. They think or expect you not to have personal problems.

See Jennifer Aniston. See her land Brad. See her lose Brad to Angie. Case closed.

Oh, the expectation – the sheer hellish expectation – of always having to look immaculate, polished and well-put-together. Can’t a girl go out in her favourite faded shorts from the reject store and in flip-flops sans Dior glasses once in a blue moon, especially if all she wants at two a.m. is a McDonald’s milkshake? Lest she be the subject of vicious tongue-wagging that “She Has Let Herself Go.” (Sigh.) Worse still are the smug and insincerely sympathetic looks thrown in her direction when her female friends catch her at a less-than-desirable moment.

If you’re smarter than the average graduate and have a CV that proves it, some insecure — or worse, malicious — types try and find fault with you by speculating or perhaps hoping that you either:

  • have a miserable love life
  • have no love life
  • are infertile
  • have to endure a cheating boyfriend/husband
or, worse
  • suffer all the above your entire life.
If you, as a beautiful woman, have none of the above misfortunes, very few women want to be friends with you. It also reduces beautiful women to doing the most ridiculous things – like downplaying their intelligence – just so they can be proper friends with other women.

If the beautiful woman marries a less-than-handsome man whose level of attractiveness does not match hers, it crosses the casual observer’s mind that she’s marrying him for money or for mind-blowing sex. (And of course the sparkling personality.) Admit it. We all think this at some point. We just don’t cop to it.
Some beautiful women understand over time that only their very best friends will ever truly relax around them when their [friends’] boyfriends and husbands are within five hundred feet of her.
A beautiful woman will naturally want to wear that seriously gorgeous dress with the exquisite neckline that exposes your decolletage just so; the hemline that elongates your calves and makes your ankles look good enough to bite.  Walking into the packed bar/club, the dagger looks from the women and the drooling from the men makes you decide to stay home forever, and never, ever, buy any more nice clothes.

A platonic smile from you to a passing waiter sends him into untold spasms of joy. When you politely brush off his attempt at getting your phone number, you start worrying if he’ll spit in your latte.

If you party, drink or smoke, you are automatically a Bad Girl, even if you HAVE spent every other weekend of the last decade watching movies at home, reading, or rescuing stray animals in your spare time.
A victim of their own beauty, the beautiful woman with any semblance of a soul spends a disproportionate amount of time
wondering if the man of the month, season or year really likes her for her, or for the fact she makes him look like a million-dollar stud just for being his arm candy.
And lastly, when a woman is beautiful, she is not expected to possess a personality or develop an interesting dimension beyond her beauty. And if she does, she runs the risk of being labelled eccentric or difficult. Being known for your beauty your entire life and then having people silently pity you when you lose your beauty in your sunset years (with stage whispers as they pass by, “Wow, what happened to her? She used to be so beautiful. She looks terrible,”) can’t be easy, either.

There isn’t anything wrong with wanting to be beautiful. As long as it’s not the only thing you want to do with your life. Looks fade, charm lasts for about fifteen minutes: after that, you really need a bit more substance with which to prevent yourself being relegated to or remembered as mere window-dressing in the emporium of life.