A woman’s body has become a site of commodification so extreme that even her most basic necessities are not spared. Products meant for hygiene or comfort razors, deodorants, tampons, shampoos are packaged, scented, and coloured in ways that signal femininity, pushing them into a hyper-aesthetic zone of the departmental store. This creates a glaring economic contradiction: men’s products, often identical in function, are sold cheaper, while women pay a premium simply for their gender. But the exploitation is not merely financial. By demanding that her essentials adhere to socially approved standards of beauty, the market sends an unambiguous message: a woman’s needs, her very body, are only legitimate when they are commodified, beautified, and consumed in accordance with society’s expectations. The Pink Tax is thus not just a matter of inflated prices — it is a subtle enforcement of control, conditioning women to invest continuously in an ideal that is neither natural nor negotiable.
But this exploitation extends far beyond commercialised markets and seeps into the routines of everyday life. A tailor may charge different rates for the same blouse depending on the gender it is intended for, while a simple haircut at a salon can cost women far more than men, despite the identical service. Men’s consumption remains largely practical, functional, and unembellished, whereas women are expected to pay for aesthetic compliance at every turn. This raises the question: is the female market driven merely by trends or gullibility, or is it a reflection of deeper societal pressures — an unspoken demand that a woman’s body and appearance must conform to rigid standards of femininity in order to be socially acceptable? Is the answer in the very language and design of advertising taglines such as “You’re worth it” or “Strong is beautiful” which carry a psychological imperative, subtly instructing women to compare, conform, and continually invest in their appearance as a measure of worth? These subliminal marketing strategies are deeply rooted in social comparison theory, objectification and fear appeal/protection motivation theories.
What drives these trends and this pervasive atmosphere of aesthetic pressure is complex, but Bollywood emerges as a central amplifier. It does not merely participate in the beauty economy but it scripts the very ideals it propagates. A heroine is considered desirable only within certain limits of youth, height, body shape, and glossiness; she must embody a narrowly defined standard of perfection to occupy the screen. In contrast, the male hero faces no such constraints — he can be rugged, unshaven, or rough around the edges, yet remain socially and cinematically attractive. Rarely, if ever, do we see a heroine portrayed without immaculate hair, smooth skin, or an adherence to these exacting aesthetic codes. Bollywood thus legitimises and perpetuates a system where women’s bodies must conform, while men remain free to exist in natural variance.
Shaping expectations
The pressures scripted by Bollywood do not remain confined to the screen; they extend into real life, shaping expectations of the female body in ways that are both cultural and corporeal. What began as inflated prices on products and services has now seeped into medicalised beauty, where women feel compelled to inject, sculpt, and chemically alter their flesh to remain socially desirable. Botox, lip fillers, fat-dissolving injections, and waist trainers have transformed the pursuit of beauty into a literal taxation of the body. The ethical question becomes unavoidable: where do we draw the line between choice and coercion, enhancement and harm? When a neurotoxin is normalised as a cosmetic tool and surgical interventions are valorised as routine, the body itself becomes a commodity, an arena where societal expectations and corporate profit intersect — and women are left paying the ultimate cost, not just in money, but in autonomy, health, and identity. Botox, derived from the neurotoxin produced by Clostridium botulinum, is in essence a biological poison masquerading as a cosmetic indulgence. Its clinical purpose is to paralyse facial muscles, has been co-opted into the aesthetics of youth, presenting a perfect example of scientific villainy marketed as self-empowerment. What begins as a beauty trend quickly transforms into a gothic extension of the body: expressions freeze, wrinkles vanish, and the subtle movements that communicate emotion and humanity are chemically silenced. Our faces, once maps of experience, memory, and social connection, are rendered static, producing what might be called a “living mask” of perfection. The social and cultural implications are profound: the frozen visage becomes a symbol of conformity, a shell shaped to meet an external ideal, while erasing the very signs of individuality and lived experience. Public figures, like the prominent Friends actress celebrity Monica, become embodiments of this paradox the human body reduced to a display of chemical control, a haunting illustration of how aesthetic obsession can strip away the expressive, vulnerable, and ultimately human qualities of the self. Botox is thus not merely cosmetic; it is an ethical, philosophical, and neurological commentary on the ways in which society scripts the human form, demanding that even biology yield to the imperatives of beauty. shouldn’t we be asking question that how come we are trivializing medicine for vanity ? Is natural ageing a flaw framed to be fixed? “In masking age with toxins, do we risk letting appearance define our being, questioning the very locus of identity?”
It is mind-boggling to consider how standards for women’s bodies have been normalised over time. Centuries ago, practices such as binding women’s feet in ancient China or forcing the use of corsets to narrow the waist were universally condemned as cruel and uncivilised. Throughout history, women have been subjected to extreme and often harmful beauty standards. Foot binding created tiny “lotus feet,” causing lifelong pain and disability, while in Europe, tightly laced corsets compressed ribs and displaced organs to produce an exaggerated hourglass figure. In parts of Southeast Asia, neck rings elongated the neck but weakened muscles over time, and in Africa, South America, and Asia, lip and ear stretching permanently altered tissue as a marker of beauty or status. Pale skin was prized in ancient Egypt, Asia, and Europe, often achieved through toxic powders containing lead or arsenic, while teeth were filed, blackened, or inlaid to meet local ideals. Women were also expected to meticulously shape or remove hair and conform to strict weight norms, whether forced thinness or fattening, depending on the era. Across centuries, these practices reveal a clear pattern: women’s bodies were controlled, altered, and harmed in the name of beauty, a coercion that, in many ways, continues today through cosmetic interventions and socially enforced aesthetic standards.
Body coercion
And yet, today, we have moved into a new era of body coercion but the script remains the same one where injecting a neurotoxin into the face or sculpting flesh with fillers and surgical procedures is considered routine, even glamorous. The justification remains eerily familiar: women must resist the natural ageing process, conform to youth ideals, and maintain socially sanctioned beauty.
Injecting a neurotoxin, dissolving fat, or surgically reshaping a rib may be marketed as self-care or empowerment, yet these procedures echo the same principle as genital mutilation or corsets — women’s bodies are moulded, constrained, and chemically or surgically altered to satisfy societal ideals, often at the expense of autonomy, health, and natural function.
Even the everyday makeup contains a cocktail of synthetic chemicals, many of which are known to be potential toxins and allergens. These ingredients are right there on the label, yet we lack a holistic view of their true cost. We urgently need a more human-centred and intelligent approach, rethinking how these products are designed, approved for sale, and ultimately used.
Unfortunately, the conversation is distorted by relentless marketing. Feminine products are hyper-glamorised and sexualised, placing the pressure to use them squarely on women. This creates a situation where those most exposed to the potential dangers are the very people targeted by ads promising beauty and confidence. The pursuit of an idealised image should not come at the expense of our health. Beyond inflated prices and aesthetic coercion, the modern beauty industry confronts us with a deeper paradox: the very products designed to enhance the body often corrode it from within. Shelves glitter with lipsticks, foundations, shampoos, and serums laced with parabens, phthalates, lead traces, and synthetic fragrances — chemicals linked to hormonal disruption, infertility, and long-term health risks. The irony is stark: in order to appear “healthy” and “desirable,” women are encouraged to invest in products that slowly compromise their well-being. Behind the glossy packaging lies another hidden violence — animal testing. The allure of a lipstick or mascara often comes at the cost of pain inflicted on voiceless creatures in laboratories, exposing the cruelty masked beneath glamour. Nor is the damage confined to the body or the lab: cosmetic waste, microplastics, and chemical run-off seep into rivers and soil, embedding the pursuit of beauty into a larger chain of ecological harm. What emerges is an ethical dilemma: how can society normalise products that simultaneously degrade the body, exploit animals, and pollute the planet? That they remain so deeply woven into daily life reveals not simply a crisis of consumption, but a fracture of integrity itself, a willingness to sacrifice health, morality, and environment at the altar of an aesthetic ideal we did not freely choose.
While I have never fully agreed with many of Simone de Beauvoir’s views, symbolically, I feel her notion of women as the “second sex” resonates profoundly with the realities we continue to face. From centuries of foot binding, corsets, and genital mutilation to the modern pressures of Botox, fillers, and chemically sculpted bodies, women have been treated as objects to be moulded, priced, and displayed. The Pink Tax, aesthetic coercion, and cinematic ideals are not just economic or cultural phenomena — they are part of a long continuum in which women’s bodies remain secondary, subjected to control and commodification. Recognising this does not mean resignation; rather, it illuminates the subtle and persistent ways in which society continues to demand conformity, urging us to question who truly profits when flesh, beauty, and autonomy are taxed in the name of ideals we did not choose.