Margot Starbuck - Unsqueezed: Springing Free from Skinny Jeans, Nose Jobs, Highlights and Stilettos

The True Campaign exists to end the crisis of distorted self-image among women by challenging cultural ideals about identity and beauty so we can influence our world as God intended.

Living into a new Reality

W hen it comes to mass-emailed stories, jokes, photos and video links, I have a relatively firm dont read and quickly delete policy.

My friend MJ got me today, though, by starting her email, You probably all know what Im talking about if youve seen the news today. I didnt and I hadnt. I certainly didnt want to be the only person who didnt know and hadnt seen. So, against my better judgment, I clicked.

It was a clip from one of those talent search shows called Britains Got Talent . That cynical Simon Cowell was one of the judges. The clip begins by introducing us to a contestant named Susan Boyle. Everything about Susan Boyle isby Hollywoods standard of beautywrong. Sure, well tolerate physical imperfection for the first few episodes of The Biggest Loser , but typically we dont have a lot of patience for much besides the kind of glam weve been conditioned to expect. And deserve.

Ms. Boyle introduces herself to the camera, My name is Susan Boyle. Im nearly forty-eight, currently unemployed but still looking, and Im going to sing for you on Britains Got Talent today. She continues, At the moment I live alone with my cat called Pebbles. Ive never been married. Ive never been kissed. Then, flashing a look of mock sadness, she playfully bemoans, Oh, shame! At the end of the clip, squinting her eyes in determination, Susan Boyle promises with steely resolve, Im going to make that audience rock . I assume she most likely said more stuff, but producers cropped it just to highlight the particularly uncomfortable and socially awkward parts. The subtext of the editing, of course, is to lure us all into agreeing that Susan Boyle isnt worth very much by the worlds standards. Judging from the audiences facial expressions, it worked. As the soundtrack from Les Mis begins, though, Susan Boyle has only to pipe out eight words before minds and faces are radically changed. I dreamed a dream in time gone by... By the time she gets to by, she has been justified. Well-manicured judging eyebrows rise. Eyes widen. Audience members begin clapping, whistling. Before long the audience has risen to their feet, wild with adulation.

Im not particularly musical, but even I knew that I was listening to, and watching, a truly gifted woman.

We love this stuff, dont we? We eat it up. Its even better than a Cinderella story, because this Cinderella is too old, too heavy, too gray, too unsophisticated. In a word, shes us . Except with talent.

And thats the single piece of this great story that leaves me unsettled. We all feel warm and fuzzy inside, whether were seated in the actual television audience or watching the clip on YouTube. Some part of us feels generous for applauding someone who doesnt fit into the worlds mold of acceptability. So bravo for us for being so open-minded.

In the end, though, Susan Boyle still had to earn the approval and praise of her audience. She had to prove that she was worthy of acceptance. Sure, its sort of the nature of a talent competition, but if were really honest, its sort of the nature of the world, too.

In my fantasies, I like to imagine a world where Susan Boyle swaggers out on stage and gets the standing ovation for no other reason than that she reflects the image of God. Wouldnt that be the most fabulous place?

I happen to live exactly .96 miles from such an alternate cosmos. On Tuesday nights I get to hang out there, at the Reality Center, with my teenage friends with and without disabilities. The Tuesday Night Live experience is one part of an organization called Reality Ministries.

As were eating our pizza, every person is invited to jot down some bit of news from the week. Then as the meal winds down and were nibbling away at our Chips Ahoy cookies, a few microphoned news anchorstypically grinning, young college or high school womenwill read Friendz Newz out loud for the rest of us to hear.

And now for Friendz Newz! one announces. Carolyn will be traveling to Germany over the summer. Everyone claps and cheers for Carolyn. A neighboring pizza-eater gives her a high five.

This weekend Tyrone will be cheering for UNC. At this, half the room claps and cheers and the other half, loyal to the Duke Blue Devils, shouts the most joyful and delighted boos imaginable.

Janines birthday, the announcer begins, beaming, is in one hundred and fifty-eight days! As Janine stands to be recognized, the room bursts into applause.

One of the announcers asks the crowd for a drumroll. Jamel, who is never without his drumsticks, bangs the chair in front of him. The rest of us start slapping our thighs and tables and chairs in growing anticipation.

Christopher, the announcer shouts, like maybe Christopher has won the lottery and is only finding out about it just now, had CEREAL for BREAKFAST!!!! At this, the room absolutely explodes in riotous cheering and applause. Raising one arm, cupping his hand in a royal wave, Christopher humbly acknowledges the crowd as if he might be the president of the United States, on inauguration day, riding in a heavily guarded entourage down Pennsylvania Avenue.

This sort of thunderous celebration continues on as we learn that Vicky had choir practice on Thursday, that Marcelles brother is visiting and that Tanya will shop for new socks on Saturday.

Doesnt this sound like the most fabulous place in the world to be? Believe me, it is.

Sure, we all still feel warm and fuzzy inside, like everyone did cheering for Susan Boyle. What makes Reality Ministries so much more fantastic than the stage of a reality TV talent show, however, is that weve all agreed that every individual in the room is entirely acceptable and lovable and worthy for just... existing.

With the announcements at Reality Ministries being so fantastic, you can only imagine what the annual talent show is like. It happened a few weeks ago.

Id been traveling and was scheduled to arrive home moments before the show was scheduled to begin. Exhausted emotionally and physically the morning of the talent show I silently hoped to get snowed-in in Chicago on my way back from L.A. I truly am so selfish that I would secretly wish to take down an entire flight of other passengers to manage my guilt-free plan to get out of going to the talent show.

On any other night, this sort of celebration of my friends gifts would absolutely pop my corn. Still crabbing about it as I left the househaving arrived home with ten minutes to spareI picked up my friend Jackie who lives in a group home on my block. She was planning to dance in the show. I knew my friend DeCarlo was going to sing. Rodney, one of my favorite performers in the whole galaxy, would play his guitar. Me? Im a closet introvert, so I just planned to clap and smile and come home more emotionally exhausted than when I left.

My plan for the evening, however, was superseded by Someone Elses plan.

First the emcee, Cameron, came strutting out, spewing a thick Jersey accent and wearing a green blazer, white pants and a curly wig. Really, how can you go wrong with that getup? This began to cheer me up. He would introduce each act and then two lovely assistants, precious high school girls, would escort the delirious performers off the stage, just like at the Oscars.