Why do we crucify ourselves?

Today I took a walk through the Opera Gallery at Takashimaya Shopping center, I was just passing through. But this has fast become one of my favourite places to visit in town. Paint and paper going for tens of thousands of USD... charming. But anyway, I was snaking though the gallery and I realise that the most popular form for representation was the Female.

Not just the female form in all its sensual glory, but the female being: In all her mystery, divinity and complexity. The goddess is reflected and worshipped two-dimensionally, with stokes and blends that hold her complexion with the utmost reverence.

She does not fart, act stupid, nor does she ever make a foolish comment that might rape her dignity.

So there is Woman: held at an arms length
behind a glass pane
within a gilded frame.

Is there truth? Can beauty exist for beauty's sake?
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I wonder where we get these non-truths from.
Maybe if we talked about our differences every once in a while instead of sloshing them on naked canvasas, we girls would be able to identify more with the Woman in the painting.