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.
