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Shame, like beauty, is often in the eye of the beholder.

Beauty is now defined by your bones sticking out of your decolletage. For that to be the standard is really perilous for women.

In LA, where I live, it's all about perfectionism. Beauty is now defined by your bones sticking out of your decolletage. For that to be the standard is really perilous for women.

There is a role and function for beauty in our time.

Everyone has their own insecurities, regardless of how you look or how people perceive you, but sometimes people give their insecurities too much power. Defining beauty is simply a matter of opinion. For me, real beauty has very little to do with the structure of someone's face or body.

I contend that every woman has the right to feel beautiful, no matter how scrambled her features, or how indifferent her features.

There is certainly no absolute standard of beauty. That precisely is what makes its pursuit so interesting.

The foundation of beauty is the body.

Thanks to capitalism, the importance placed on beauty has never been so manipulated. We are the guinea pigs force-fed ads that tell us how pathetic we are: that we will never be loved, happy or valuable unless we have the body, the face, the hair, even the personality that will apparently be ours, if only we buy their products.

We can't shame women for trying to be beautiful. That's so mean and unfair. But there's a part of me that thinks it's really sad, too. It's very complicated.