I was walking out of the campus Starbucks this morning and I saw an amazingly beautiful woman. I should note that I only saw her from the back and it was a combination of factors that lead me to make this comment. She had a scarf tied about her head, a brown shirt and brown cords… nothing very special right? It was the way she carried herself that caught my attention: straight posture, curves that weren’t tightly bound… I suppose it’s a difficult thing to express.
Then I saw a man with a shaved head and I couldn’t help but admire the architecture of his skull.
Beauty is a strange, subjective topic. Something that appeals to me might have no impact on another viewer.
It’s funny to be writing about this subject on the heels of my morning. I succumbed to vanity this morning and put in my new (extremely uncomfortable) contacts. I did the normal, at least by other women’s standards – but not my own, routine of cleanse, moisturize and powder. I’m wearing a bit of make-up today and I actually took the time to do my hair.
I’ve lately come to the conclusion that I need to “take care of myself” more. I hate fussing over hair and face. I can’t even write that without cringing over the thought of how much I’d rather not mess with all the steps most women do.
I once read a commentary from a woman in a magazine about how women who say they don’t wear makeup are really lying. HA! Stupid, stupid woman…. what do you know?
A person (and I won’t say more about her than that) actually argued with me about it and started grilling me about my habits – all of which were easily countered with “I don’t do that.” And that’s the issue. No woman (or, I suppose, man) should assume that others believe or do the same as them.
No, up until now, I did not use facial wash. I used soap. In the shower, when I was washing the rest of my person. No, I did not, up until now, use moisturizer and yes! wow, my skin didn’t fall off.
I have rosy cheeks and rosy lips. I have black, relatively thick, eyelashes. I have mostly unblemished skin – although I’ll admit my nose gets red easily.
I got lucky.
My mother has sandy eyelashes, but otherwise she got lucky too.
My oldest son would make a gorgeous girl with his coloring and those long, thick dark eyelashes that any woman would kill for.
The fact is that I didn’t do all those things that we are “supposedly” supposed to do in order to ensure beauty. I finally gave in, not because I felt that I was somehow lacking, but because I wanted to see what would happen.
So here I am, today… with my pretty skin powdered and my hair neatly combed. I am no different than I was before, except for a little bit more conscious about the effort I took. I asked my husband this morning if I looked pretty and without looking up he said yes. It makes me smile to think about it because I called him on the fact that he answered before looking up and he said, “Well, my answer is still the same.”
This brings me back to my surreptitious people-watching of this morning. What made these people rate as beautiful to me was often something intriguing and unique. It was more about a line, a curve, or an individual characteristic than some socially-accepted norm achieved through use of products or regimen. I don’t belittle those who feel the need to, but I don’t believe we all have to do these things to find our own form of beauty.
Other than my complete and utter disatisfaction with my saggy, out-of-shape body, I like myself and my unique conglomeration of parts. I like the crooked nostril and the silver hairs. I like the smile lines at the corners of my eyes and I like the fact that I got lucky with my coloring. I can do something about my fitness…. I can get up and walk more. I can eat nutritious foods, which will feed my body and my mental health. I can laugh a bit more and not worry so much over stupid things.
Perhaps I’ll keep up with the cleanse, moisturize, powder regimen…
No matter what though, I will continue to enjoy my own brand of beauty.
Cheers on a Tuesday morning!