2006-12-28
Flags to nations, Make Up to Faces.
I received a truck load of makeup this festive season, and I really have no idea why. (I refuse to believe that my relatives think I need enhancement). More makeup than I think I could ever expire before the expiry date, but then again, any amount of make up amounts to a truckload for someone who doesn't even use them.
But I probably should, and will begin. It's funny - using make up has always been a serious dilemma for me. The whole balance between Simplicity (true NYGH girl, I am!) where make up gets painted in Vanity, versus the very desirable quality of knowing how to make yourself look good. (For the record, I usually end up not using make up at all because I get tired of all the moral struggling- and because I don't really know how to.)
To give credit to my very Asian and very Chinese Mother's upbringing (mine), I've always been partial towards the Simplicity argument, and never really could feel anything but slight disgust for the preteens who spent hours preening themselves over the powder room counters. I still don't quite believe that looks should be everything, but I'm starting to recognize that looks -are- something. That's not to say I'm all for vanity - but a woman who takes the trouble to put on make up, is one who is aware of her appearances. Which could be a good thing.
Being Good Girls always had us understand that a person could be full without having to turn to appearances. That those who brandished their mascaras in public and celebrated their powder were vain and shallow. We suppress the desire to want to look good and hide it in the depths of the silent, hidden harem. And I suspect, that we hide our jealousy in the moral sanctions we slam down.
But recently, I can't help but wonder why we bother estranging ourselves from the very primal, very simple desire to pretty ourselves up. And when I look at a woman with daubbed eyelids and glossy lips, I wonder what she thinks when she looks into the mirror. I wonder who she dresses up for, I wonder at how marvelously well she takes herself.
Because when I can care about how I look, it means I've filled up my soul.
Because when I can care about how I look, I want others to look at me, to get interested me.
Because when I can care about how I look, it means I love myself enough to want to look good.
nothing ever happens at 6:19 p.m.