Another Disney Princess, on parade in the Magic Kingdom.
I have in the past mentioned my views on “pretty” to mrschili and kizz, and I’m back to wax verbose about this. Let’s have a little musical intro:
I’ve always found one of the saddest places to be the vast sea of makeup counters which usually dominate the main floor of department stores. Females milling about, messing with testers, talking to the helpful staff, sometimes sitting on stools to get made up. Made Up. It may be hard for me to explain this, but the simple version is that I do not think makeup makes women look better. I could go forever without seeing eye shadow, eye liner, eyelash goop, foundation, powder, rouge, lipstick, etc., etc. Far as I’m concerned, makeup is for the theatre. Mimes and clowns wear makeup. A little research would probably allow me to get a dollar figure spent on this sort of crap in the US in a year, but it would only dishearten me.
Here’s what I say: “pretty” is for flowers. “Pretty” is for girls under about 6 or so. Kitty cats too, maybe. I guess one could give/make a “pretty” compliment. As we all know, things can come to a “pretty” pass. Whatever. Pretty is not for women. Beauty, if one wants to consider it, is for women (for men too, I guess). Beauty is something which can be nurtured by paying attention to, working on, the inner self. (I’m not speaking here of that obscure fiery brand of hot sauce called “Inner Beauty,” which can stoke up even the coolest customer).
Just as it saddens me to think of those acres of makeup counters, and makes me shudder to contemplate “makeovers,” (I’m not even going to get into cosmetic surgery) it saddens me to think of the self-doubt (even self-loathing) and feelings of inadequacy borne by women all over the world, women I have known and women I still know. Once upon a time I dated a woman who was, by the standards of glossy magazine ads, and the standards of the rooms we’d walk into, a head-turner. Modeling agency looks (Wilhemina Agency, to be exact). She looked fine by any standards fresh-scrubbed out of a hot shower. I relate this just so I can add the following: she spent more time on her makeup than anyone I’ve ever known. She was skilled with the stuff, no caricature-type result, but what a damn waste. My point? She had the same sad feelings that she wasn’t good enough as everybody else. This lady and I did not stick together; it is not important why for this discussion, but it had nothing to do with looks.
I had a long-term relationship with another woman who, to continue the metaphor (maybe it’s not a metaphor) turned my head. She wore little if any makeup, as I recall, and was beautiful. But for Vietnam hangover on my part, and a career change which took her far away, we might still be together. I hope she doesn’t read my blog regularly, recognize herself, and read the following: another lady of my acquaintance, a married lady seeking to stray, referred to my friend in this paragraph as “ugly.” Ugly! Was she a head-turner, restaurant-silencer like the lady above? No, I suppose not. But I loved her, and did not love the other.
So, a digression (maybe). I think many people, maybe everyone at times, struggle via attire, makeup, accomplishments, etc., etc., to be “special.” My view is that we are all of us special. We struggle (vainly) to achieve what we already have. I wonder if it is in our genetic makeup, our Darwinian heritage, to be always unable to recognize the truth of our inherent worth, and the worthlessness of all that we try to artificially tack on.
Aha! You say. Caught you, you rascal, alluding where I said woman #1 above was a “head turner,” and “restaurant-silencer.” There must be some combination of physical features which is coded into our DNA and which announces itself as “pretty.” Some actual ideal we all naturally aspire to. I personally would vote for something else. We are all victims of indoctrination on this subject by folks with a commercial interest to be served. Notions of physical appeal vary over the centuries and around the world. The value of loving kindness, I suspect, is known to all now, and has been known to everyone through time.
I may have been going somewhere with this when I began. Oh, yeah, I don’t want to hear about “pretty.” I’m not going to tell you you’re pretty. If warranted, and if I know you well enough, I may sometime say you are beautiful. I’ll go one better. Unless you do something really “ugly” (ugly referring to a form of negative behavior here), I’ll tell you you are beautiful now. Not just Kizz and mrschili, but everyone of either gender reading these words.
I didn’t do as well a job with this as I’d hoped. Revisions or Revisits may follow.
K.
