Recently, I shared with a friend that I had opted for a cosmetic procedure several years ago, a detail I had only entrusted to a select few close friends. She merely shrugged, seemingly unfazed by my revelation. “Well, you’ve always been a bit self-centered,” she remarked nonchalantly.
I was genuinely surprised by her comment and felt a twinge of hurt. I didn’t consider myself self-absorbed. Self-centered individuals, particularly women, are often portrayed as villainous and narcissistic, willing to go to extreme lengths to maintain their appearance. (Think of classic fairy tales like Snow White…) I certainly didn’t see myself as a one-dimensional caricature, but her words prompted me to reflect on my own views regarding pride and vanity and where the distinction between the two lies.
Like many young girls, my early understanding of beauty was shaped by my mother, who would take my sisters and me to department stores, spending what felt like hours experimenting with lipsticks and being upsold on eye shadow palettes while we played with the odd skin type analyzer. (“Alright, now slide it to ‘Tans, Never Burns’….) Although my mother wasn’t particularly fashion-focused, her self-esteem appeared closely tied to her makeup routine.
She didn’t shy away from sharing her beauty ideals with me. I received my first leg-shaving tutorial at the age of ten and, by eleven, was advised to address what she called my ‘mustache’. For years, we bonded over hair bleaching sessions in the bathroom. In fifth grade, when I was finally permitted to wear eye shadow to a birthday party, I rummaged through her old, dusty makeup bag and selected a slightly cracked baby blue shadow. I applied it clumsily, keeping my eyes half-closed throughout the event, which made me both alluring and clumsy as I roller-skated.
While some may question my mother’s approach, I ultimately embraced her principle that beauty is attainable with the right tools. I learned that external appearance does not overshadow intelligence or other internal attributes. I could be both smart and attractive.
However, I soon encountered a life-altering illness that affected my appearance, emotional stability, and outlook. Adolescence, with its inherent challenges, further eroded my confidence. As I watched my friends blossom into confident young women, I felt like a fragile weed. Teasing ensued, with comments that I resembled a boy. I was dubbed “Freddy”, after a character from a movie that bore little resemblance to me—yet such teenage taunts are rarely rooted in accuracy. Middle school was particularly challenging, especially when I overheard the phrase ‘The Young and the Flat-chested’ directed at me.
It took time, hormonal changes, and the introduction of training bras before I began to regain my self-esteem. As I navigated my early twenties, I rediscovered the transformative power of a little eyeliner and lip gloss, leaning on my mother’s lessons. I never woke up looking flawless, but I had a strategy for enhancement. The act of ‘suiting up’ made me feel empowered, more organized, and even more attractive.
Admittedly, I find joy in enhancing my appearance—whatever my version of beauty may be. I appreciate dressing up, receiving compliments about my hair, and catching my reflection in a store window and feeling satisfied with what I see. I maintain a fitness routine and watch my diet primarily to stay in shape, diligently use sunscreen to prevent wrinkles, and view makeup as an essential part of my routine. I strive to ensure my inner self matches my outer appearance, a balance I take pride in. Whether that constitutes vanity is subjective.
As I approach my 40th birthday, I’m aware of the unique pressures aging brings for women in our society, which often idolizes youth. I grapple with understanding what looking good age-appropriately means for me. I’m no longer a supermodel; I have imperfections like cellulite and fine lines. I don’t aspire to dress like I’m 25, but I do want to present my best self for as long as possible, ideally throughout my life. If you’re interested in exploring options for enhancing your journey, consider checking out this post on at-home insemination kits, which can provide valuable insights into fertility and personal care.
In summary, wanting to look attractive is a common desire that intertwines with self-esteem and identity. While society often labels such aspirations as vanity, it’s essential to appreciate the nuances between pride in one’s appearance and self-obsession. Each individual’s journey toward self-acceptance and confidence is unique, and it’s crucial to embrace both inner and outer beauty.
Keyphrase: “wanting to look pretty”
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