Although a lot of pain for a little screen time; Shaving legs

When Lou Diamond Phillips declared, “Although a lot of pain for a little screen time; shaving legs, waxing eyebrows, high heels, trying to put on a bra, losing weight because women’s clothes are SO revealing — Ladies you have my respect,” he offered more than humor: he offered a profound acknowledgment of the hidden struggles that women endure for beauty, for appearance, and for societal expectation. His words ring like both lament and salute, for they unveil the cost of standards placed upon women, and they honor the strength with which those burdens are carried.

The meaning of this statement lies in its recognition of sacrifice. For centuries, women have been measured not only by the depth of their wisdom or the strength of their labor, but by the polish of their appearance. From the sting of waxing to the strain of high heels, from the discipline of weight loss to the intricate labor of dressing, these rituals — often invisible to the unseeing eye — demand time, energy, and yes, pain. Phillips draws our attention to the truth that what the world consumes in a fleeting moment of admiration has cost much more in private preparation.

The origin of such practices reaches deep into history. In ancient Egypt, women used kohl to darken their eyes and oils to soften their skin, believing beauty a sign of both status and divinity. In Renaissance Europe, corsets squeezed ribs and lungs for the sake of a narrow waist, while powdered wigs and painted faces concealed reality for the sake of appearance. In every age, women bore the weight of fashion’s demands, and often their very health was the price. What Phillips names in jest is, in fact, a legacy of endurance across generations.

History offers striking examples of this endurance. Think of Empress Elisabeth of Austria, who devoted hours daily to preserving her figure and beauty, enduring diets so strict they nearly consumed her. Her grace was admired across Europe, but behind the admiration was discipline, hunger, and pain. Or recall the bound feet of women in imperial China, where elegance was pursued at the cost of lifelong disability. These stories remind us that the pain endured for beauty is not trivial, but a profound testament to the resilience of women under cultural expectation.

Phillips’s salute — “Ladies you have my respect” — transforms what could be mockery into honor. By acknowledging these struggles, he elevates them, reminding us that even in the seemingly superficial, there is strength, sacrifice, and dignity. Respect is the proper response, for it is not the act of putting on heels or applying makeup that demands admiration, but the resilience with which women endure the silent labor of appearing flawless in a world that demands it of them.

The lesson, then, is twofold: first, to recognize the invisible labor of others; second, to challenge the structures that make such labor necessary. Respect must not only be given in words, but also extended in action — by questioning the standards that demand pain as the price of beauty, by creating spaces where dignity is not tied to appearance, and by offering understanding rather than judgment to those who navigate these burdens.

Practical actions flow naturally. Men must learn to honor women not for how well they conform to external ideals, but for the courage and humanity that lie beneath the surface. Women, too, may find strength in supporting each other against the tyranny of impossible standards, lifting one another with affirmation rather than comparison. And society at large must remember that to respect women means not only to acknowledge their sacrifice, but to work toward a future where worth is measured not by the height of a heel, but by the depth of the soul.

Thus, Lou Diamond Phillips’s words, though simple, endure as a heartfelt recognition of hidden struggles. They remind us that behind every polished image lies labor, sacrifice, and often pain. Let us, therefore, not mock or dismiss these truths, but respond as he did — with admiration, with compassion, and above all, with respect. For in honoring these unseen battles, we take one step closer to building a world where dignity is not demanded through suffering, but freely given to all.