Every day, people make millions off of what the Nagoskis[1] have dubbed “the Bikini Industrial Complex.”
It’s the idea that our bodies’ worth is determined by its attractiveness. It’s why girls even as young as eight years old begin dieting, and why even during the pandemic when no one was seeing us, young women across the world were obsessed with Chloe Ting workouts.
It’s why we have so many supposedly well-meaning phrases like “don’t let yourself go,” and “I just care about your health,” wrapped into every comment about body size.
In the Philippines, titas will say “Uy, you’re getting taba,” all while heaping a giant portion of food on your plate.
It’s why there are girls who wear Brandy Melville clothes as a badge of honor.[2]
But what they don’t want you to know is that you can be healthy at any size.[3]
You don’t need to be skinny to be beautiful.
You don’t need to be White to be beautiful.
Hell, you don’t need to be beautiful at all for your life to mean something or to be a loveable person.
You are still so beautiful.
But alas, we live in a world of capitalism where supporting that assertion would mean that several industries would completely go away.
Instead, companies capitalize on manufactured insecurities, selling you the idea that your body should look a certain way, and the fantasy of what having a body that looks like that would mean for your happiness in the long run.
Unfortunately, it works.
Today, I was talking with my tito and cousins about my tattoos, and the idea came up about whether I was worried about what my tattoos would look like when I grow old and when my skin sags. Won’t it look ugly then?
Honestly, I can say that luckily, I was not unprepared for this question; I have thought about this, and this is my criteria for getting a tattoo:
- Can I envision myself at different stages of life – getting married, going to work, as a mom with young kids, as a wrinkly old lady – with these tattoos?
- Do I still like them then? Can I see myself answering my kids’ or grandkids’ questions about them without shame or regret?
If the answer is yes to both, then I figure that I’ve done my due diligence in reflecting on whether I should proceed with getting it.
Some of my tattoos aren’t ones I would have chosen for myself today, but I still don’t regret them. They’re still reminders of a time when I was younger and the things that I found beautiful at the time. I love that they’re a museum of people and memories that I still cherish.
Butterflies and a strawberry vine, for my late grandmother
Cats walking together, a more impulsive tattoo, but one whose proceeds went to my rescue cat’s shelter and was done by a dear friend
A star character from Howl’s Moving Castle, a reminder of happy family memories watching Studio Ghibli films and my favorite/comfort movie of all time
Sure, sun may fade them, but whether or not I have tattoos, I think I’ll be lucky if I age.
- Sun spots = a sign I spent many happy days in the sun
- Wrinkles = a sign I got to laugh and cry, smile and frown, and experience the full breadth of human emotion
- Graying/thinning hair = a sign I’ve learned much from this life and gained a bit of wisdom along the way.
If my tattoos don’t look the same, that’s fine. I don’t expect them to.
I don’t expect my body to stay the same forever.
Especially as a woman, it’s normal, natural, and healthy (really!) for our bodies to change size regularly.
They change during a woman’s menstrual cycle.
During pregnancy.
During life.
Growth is a good thing.
And our bodies are not merely a canvas for tattoos and other art – they’re already the whole damn masterpiece, at every single stage.
Beauty and youth are fleeting.
But that’s the trick – knowing that trying to hold on to them forever is how we miss out on life.
When we let go of the expectation and desire to cling to our past youth and open ourselves to new experience, new life stages, and all they have to teach us, maybe this is how we find real joy in aging.
I’m certainly not saying that achy joints and are easy, no.
Nor am I saying that every person will be able to dance freely at 70 like the woman I linked above, be an Ironman triathlete at 92[4], or a Vogue cover model at 106.
But what I can say for certain is that our bodies are ephemeral.
It’s no use chasing a falling star.
Some things aren’t meant to last forever, and that’s okay. The very fact and inevitability of change carries its own kind of unique beauty.
I’m very okay with not fitting the conventional beauty standards when I’m old.
Heck, I don’t fit into them now, at 23.
I don’t want to waste my days trying to be good enough for other people’s tastes; I want to be bold, audacious, and authentically me.
I think, if I happen to die looking a certain way that reflects that and who I was at different stages of my life, that it wouldn’t feel like I was choosing ugliness. In fact, I think it would be a very beautiful thing.
4 Works Cited
1. Nagoski, E. &. N. A. (2019). Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle. Open source
2. Orner, E. (2024). Brandy Hellvile & The Cult of Fast Fashion. Open source
3. Association for Size Diversity and Health. (2024). Health at Every Size Principles. Open source
4. Shaw, G. (2025). 92-year-old IRONMAN triathlete completes 70.3-mile course in iconic Australian race. Open source
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