In fairness, I have never really worn much. In my make-up hey-day, I wore lipstick, blush, and light eye make-up. I've always been a pretty natural girl and woman. Manicures are for others. I paint my toenails about three times a year for fun. My hair is naturally curly and a little out of control (think Merida from Brave or, you know, Mufasa from The Lion King if I've showered right before going to bed). There was a time when I straightened it religiously. I can't tell you the last time I broke out that particular tool. I don't honestly know where it is now.
As a working woman, I wore make-up daily. It was part of the uniform I created and saw as essential for myself. In my dating years, I never let a man see me without it. If we spent the night, I would go to bed with it on unless we were in a committed relationship and practically living together.
My mother always wore make-up. Every woman in both sides of my family always wore make-up. My grandmother and aunt even put make-up on while we're on our annual camping trip. I never gave much thought to whether or not I should wear make-up or why, because it was just one of those things that was done. I'm a woman, so I should wear make-up.
That all changed when I had my son. I stopped having time, energy, or desire most of the time. I did, though, have plenty of self-criticism when I looked in the mirror. Not that I've ever spent much time in front of the mirror, but when I did see myself, I saw a washed-out, unattractive mess and missed my youthful, genuinely pretty woman. I didn't wear make-up often, but didn't feel good about myself without it.
Somewhere along the line, I began to see myself differently. I am back to enjoying my reflection. It's a different reflection from the one I saw in my 20s. I still think she was beautiful. I still enjoy the way I looked with make-up. Now, though, I also enjoy the way I look naturally. This is a big step in my personal growth. This is a big step in my journey as a mother.
You see, much like Jen said and the mother before her, I do not wish my son to ever believe himself to not be good enough. He'll listen to what I say...sometimes. He may even retain a little of it. He'll never forget what I do, who I am, and how I've made him feel. He'd never forget if I said, through my actions, that who I am is not quite good enough, needs a little tweaking and "oomph" to make me acceptable to myself and society. No, I won't tell him that. I would never say it with my words, so why would I with my actions? I won't. I stopped. I've thrown away all make-up. I've thrown away that message to my son. I've thrown away that message to myself. I reject it all. It's been round-filed - permanently.
This made me cry. I have also given up makeup. My mom was one of those who couldn't take the trash out without first "putting her face on". I (partially) grew up with a mother who constantly told me how pretty I was with that lipstick on, or my eyes done like that. She allowed me to wear makeup daily when I was ten years old. She also made comments daily on my " cute figure" and weight, but that's a different thing entirely. I quit makeup after my son was born. I had been snuggling my two will old baby, we went outside for some fresh air, and all I saw was shimmer all over his face. I saw a perfect baby with fancy chemical dirt all over him. We went in and washed up and my facial regimen now consists of Dr.Bronners and coconut oil. neither he nor his future siblings will know a mother that needs anything on her face other than their kisses.
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