Photo by Erik Lucatero on Unsplash
Why are the people we find “most attractive” often the ones on magazine covers, in movies, or trending reels? Were they born that way? Is it makeup, lighting, angles? Or is there something deeper, something our biology responds to without us even realizing?
Why does a sculpted jawline, clear skin, or hourglass figure trigger a reaction before we even think?
Beauty — the kind we scroll for, admire, envy — isn’t random. It’s engineered.
Engineered to hijack instincts that once helped us survive.
Before filters, before fashion, before cameras — our ancestors evolved certain visual preferences. Not because they were vain, but because certain features signalled health, fertility, and strength. Today, those signals are amplified, marketed, and sold back to us as desire.
This essay isn’t just about beauty.
It’s about how the modern world has hacked the most ancient part of our mind, and what that’s doing to how we see others, and ourselves.
In prehistoric life, survival depended on quick instincts.
You couldn’t spend hours debating compatibility — you had to read signs instantly:
These weren’t shallow preferences.
They were subconscious survival strategies.
Evolution didn’t reward beauty for its own sake — it rewarded signs of vitality.
But what was once nature’s wisdom has now become a tool of manipulation.
In today’s digital world, we don’t just see people — we see optimized templates.
Social media has created an ecosystem where exaggerated cues dominate — whether they’re real or not.
These aren’t enhancements anymore. They’re reinforcements of ancient instincts — intensified for influence.
Let’s break it down with two real-world examples.
Before fame, Georgina had a charming, natural beauty — a healthy WHR around 0.75, radiant skin, and soft features.
After stepping into the global spotlight:
She didn’t just become more beautiful.
She became biologically irresistible, triggering instincts deeper than thought, regardless of whether the traits were real.
Kim’s rise was engineered as much as it was earned.
Early in her career, she had natural curves and a WHR of ~0.67 — attractive, but not exaggerated.
Then came:
Each step aligned her image with ancient fertility signals — and made her the blueprint millions would subconsciously try to match.
Not because they understood evolution, but because their brains were reacting to it.
Apps like Instagram, TikTok, and FaceTune normalise distortion:
This creates a psychological trap.
We recalibrate. We forget what real looks like.
The exaggerated becomes expected. The natural becomes “not enough.”
This is what psychologists call a supernormal stimulus — an artificial exaggeration of natural cues that hijacks attention and overrides reality.
We’re not evolving anymore. We’re being reprogrammed.
When these illusions become the standard, insecurity becomes the product.
The beauty industry profits off the doubt it creates.
Confidence isn’t celebrated. It’s sold in creams, tools, trainers, tweaks.
Beauty isn’t an expression anymore.
It’s performance under pressure.
This hijack doesn’t just reshape how we look — it reshapes how we love.
People grow addicted to polished perfection and lose tolerance for authenticity.
Real relationships suffer. Real faces feel lacking.
We fall for the image, not the presence.
We chase the outline, not the energy.
We desire someone’s face, and forget to notice their fire.
When beauty becomes a race, and faces become masks, it’s easy to forget who we are.
But the Bhagavad Gita offers a simple reminder:
You are not this body. You are the one who observes it.
The body changes. Trends fade. But the awareness within you — that watcher — remains untouched.
Krishna didn’t ask Arjuna to become more attractive.
He asked him to become more awake.
We don’t have to fight beauty.
We just have to stop thinking it defines us.
The most beautiful people aren’t the ones who chase trends.
They’re the ones who move with purpose — even when no one’s watching.
The Gita teaches: Live from the inside out. Not the outside in.
That’s how you rise — with presence, not perfection.
Not at all.
Wanting to look good is natural.
It comes from instinct, and it comes from our environment.
But there’s a deeper question:
Are you doing it from clarity… or from fear?
From an evolutionary view, beauty traits once pointed to health, but today, they’re outdated.
A perfect waist-to-hip ratio won’t guarantee wellness.
A flawless face doesn’t mean emotional depth.
From a social view, beauty trends change with the wind.
Today it’s sharp jaws, tomorrow it’s soft cheeks.
If we keep morphing ourselves to please the crowd, what’s left of our core?
So, does beauty mean nothing?
No.
If looking good helps you act with confidence, carry your message, or serve your purpose, then it becomes power.
But if it becomes a chase with no finish line, it becomes suffering.
Use your appearance as a tool, not a trap.
We must take our sight back.
Beauty was never meant to enslave us.
It was meant to signal life, warmth, vitality, and presence.
Real attraction still lives in unedited smiles, imperfect skin, tired but honest eyes.
In stories etched into wrinkles.
In the silence between glances.
When we understand how the media hijacked our instincts, we stop blaming ourselves.
We stop comparing.
We start choosing — who to be, how to see, and where to look.
Not through filters.
Through clarity.
Through stillness.
Through the fire that no lens can capture.