Please allow me to clarify

I’ve come to the realization that my last blog entry may have caused some confusion. It was not solely about how expensive beauty supplies are. In fact it wasn’t really about that at all. I realize though that it may seem like that is what I was writing about since I made that list to show how much I spent on the things I use, but the point was that the cost of being beautiful is far too high because it takes a huge toll on women. It’s not about how much we spend on the things we use, it’s about how much of ourselves we are losing and how much damage we are doing to ourselves in an obsession with being perfect.

The blog was about the fact that women are killing themselves physically and emotionally in the quest for beauty. We become so concerned with what society thinks that we forget about ourselves and whats important. We let our health suffer, starving, stressing out,  and taking pills, and we let our emotional health fall as well, by stressing ourselves and telling ourselves all that is wrong with us. I suppose I should have made that clearer in my entry, but I was having difficulty writing it to begin with.

Acting

What you didn’t see, my love, on the nights you left for AZ or VA after a visit is this:
You didn’t see me crying my eyes out.
You didn’t see me fall on my knees and beg God to bring you back.
You didn’t see me fighting back the urge to chase down the car.
You didn’t see my body trembling with pain.
You didn’t see the girl you left behind falling apart.

Instead you saw all the strength I had left.
You saw me smile at you, full of love.
You saw me holding it all together.
You saw my cheerful wave, all fake and painful.

What you didn’t hear, my dear, on those nights you left me is this:
You didn’t hear me screaming for you to come back.
You didn’t hear me begging for more strength to survive.
You didn’t hear me whisper that I didn’t know how I was going to get through this.
You didn’t hear my shaking voice because I could barely speak.
You didn’t hear me saying I was afraid I’d never see you again.

Instead you heard me say I love you.
You heard me say I’ll miss you.
You heard me tell you to come back soon.
You heard my whisper that I’d be waiting for you.
You heard my promise to make it a big deal when you moved back.

I guess I’m a better actress than they gave me credit for.

The price of beauty is getting too high

Ladies and Gentleman, those who read this blog, I would like you all to know that this is one of the hardest blogs I’ve written. Lucky is digging pretty deep, so it may be long and it won’t be too pretty, pardon the pun. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and today’s blog is about something that faces American men and women, young and old, though I will talking mostly about how it effects young women my age. That issue is beauty, not the mere existence, but the perception of beauty and how much it costs to reach that goal, both in currency and in emotional, physical, and psychological terms. This is also one of those rare moments when you will see photographic evidence that Lucky is not a robot. Let us begin with the photos which show the steps I take to get ready, hair and make up-wise.

Step One: This is the original me, no make up, no straightener and hair dryer.

Step Two: Make-up and a hair dryer, looking better

Step Three: Almost straight, finished make up

Step Four: Straightened completely, last minute touches

Now then, the point was to show you how much I change when I get ready each day. I’m not the most beautiful or desirable creature on the planet, but I can say that I make myself presentable and moderately attractive. The question is how much does it cost me. Not counting the price of my hair cut and color, I spend well over fifty dollars on just my hair and face alone.  Then there are of course things like my lotions, body wash, and other items for my body, without of course including the clothes. The total is over one hundred dollars once you include that stuff. If you think I’m joking, let me give you a detailed list, prices estimated:

Facial cleanser for oil control- $3.50
Moisturizer- $4
Acne spot treater- $4.50
Hair removal creme- $3.50
Foundation- $4
Concealer- $3
Blush- $2.50
Eyeshadow- $2.50
Eyeliner- $3
Mascara- $3.50
Powder- $2.50
Color care shampoo and conditioner- $6
Straightener- $45
Total: $87.50
——————————————
Scented Body Wash- $9.50
Lotion to match- $9.50
Nail polish- $2
Hair remover gel- $6
Diet pills- $20
Total: $47
——————————-
Total overall: $134.50

The point is monetarily speaking just to be average costs over a hundred dollars, imagine what that means for the people who feel they must be far above average. But money is not the real issue at all. It’s the fact that the cost is even higher physically and emotionally. The images we are bombarded with are those of thin, ‘flawless’, women in tight fitting clothing showing off lots of skin. Perfection is shown as skinny, and beauty is skewed as if to say that if you aren’t tiny you aren’t attractive. It’s no wonder that eating disorders are so prevalent. Young women feel they must starve themselves to be pretty enough and acceptable. This can affect even the most intelligent and well adjusted young woman out there. I mean even a mature individual feels the pressure society places on women to be perfect in every way possible. I’m not saying that its bad to want to be beautiful, I’m saying that its bad to want to be beautiful in someone else’s terms.

Needless to say there is a reason why Lucky is writing this blog. It affects me too, and in a way this is one of my most soul baring blogs because you are about to discover why I’m so passionate about this topic. You noticed I’m sure that listed among the costs is diet pills. I do struggle with my weight, and I’m dieting and exercising to fight that. The truth is I’ve had body image issues for my whole ‘ young adult’ life, partly because when puberty finally hit me I gained weight and height, and it finally dawned on me that I was a girl. I was, and still am really, a total tomboy, and for me body image didn’t matter so much. I didn’t worry about what I looked like. But thanks to the magic of hormones, I suddenly started caring, the only problem was that I was not up to the standards girls are held to. Instead I was too tall and too fat. It tore me up inside, and at times still does, and I was driven to the brink over and over. I saw my best friend become anorexic, and she was one of the pretty girls. Now I’m just fat. And my skin has never been flawless, so all the make up and the like is explained through that. I am still struggling, and occasionally it tears me apart, but I’m fighting that.

Again, I’m not saying that it’s terrible to want to feel beautiful, trust me. Though  I can be one of the guys, even I need to be beautiful once in a while. It’s a female thing. But you should be beautiful on your own terms, not the media’s and not society’s. Don’t let what other people think tear you up. Know that you are beautiful no matter what you weigh, what your hair or skin looks like, or how tall you are. And so I issue these challenges to all of you out there:

• Every day find at least one part of your body that you normally hate, and tell yourself it’s beautiful.
• Look in the mirror each morning before you get all made up, and say “The real me is beautiful.”
• When you feel your lowest, remind yourself of at least one thing about you that makes you beautiful.
• Every once in a while do something that makes you feel beautiful, whether it be going out all dressed up, or simply putting on that certain piece of clothing that makes you feel great.

Changes

The way that I look, my hair and my skin
the way that things work, the good and the bad
the weather outside, whether its raining or not
the way that I see, everything surrounding me

I guess somethings will never be the same.
I guess things are meant to change.
Perhaps it’s for the best.
In the end it makes more sense.

My eyes, my heart, my soul…
the way I feel about you
the way you make me glow
the completion that is us

Some things will never change.
Some things just stay the same.
Maybe it seems cliche.
Maybe that’s what truth really is.

The more things keep changing
the more they’ll stay the same
people change, but hearts…
they never do.

Some things are just true.
Some things are just lies.
Some things are real.
Some things are merely fake.

Changes are life.
They are growth.
They are everything.
Or are they nothing.

If you think you know…
you don’t.
If you think don’t…
maybe you do.

“Second to the right, and straight on till morning”

 “The way I flew? Do you know, Jane, I sometimes wonder whether I ever did really fly” “Yes, you did.” “The dear old days when I could fly!” “Why can’t you fly now, mother?” “Because I am grown up, dearest. When people grow up they forget the way.” “Why do they forget the way?” “Because they are no longer gay and innocent and heartless. It is only the gay and innocent and heartless who can fly.” ~Peter Pan, pg 222 

In case you didn’t catch it the title and opening quotes are in reference to Peter Pan and the location of Neverland. It’s sad but Peter Pan made me realize how jaded and cynical I’ve become. We read it for my children’s lit class, Children’s Fantasy Fiction, and I bawled at the end when Wendy had forgotten how to fly because she grew up. I’ve grown up too… I don’t remember how to fly anymore. And when Peter said he’d teach her how again, but she told him not to waste his fairy dust on her, I almost died. I won’t ever fly again. I’ve grown up and forgotten and can’t be retaught. I’ll never remember; I’ll have but fond memories of the days when I could. I want to fly away to Neverland and fight pirates with Peter… that sounds good right now. I want to remember how to get there and how to fly. Long ago I used to fight pirates with Peter. I used to go to Neverland and play with the Lost Boys. I want to go back there. “Second to the right, and straight on till morning” That’s where I’ll go.

But the point of this entry is that I know that many people have forgotten how to fly. They’ve stopped believing, and that’s very sad. I clapped loudest when I watched the play; I clapped for Tinker Bell, who I believed in with all my heart. But lately I’ve come to realize that my clapping has grown softer, my innocence has faded away. People all around me have stopped clapping; they’ve stopped believing, and that is a tragedy. They’ve forgotten Neverland and Peter, and Neverland is childhood and hope. Whether you believe it or not, J.M. Barrie was right. We all know Neverland and Peter; we all fly away with him and fought pirates and redskins and played with the Lost Boys, and eventually we all flew home and grew up. “On these magical shores children at play are for ever beaching their coracles. We too have been there; we can still hear the sound of the surf, though we shall land no more.”  The main problem is that we will never landon the shores of that dreadful paradise again, where adventure would sweep us away, and we would be free and innocent. Neverland is not a safe place all the time, and our companion Peter Pan is careless and cruel at times, but it is a paradise to be certain.

Maybe it is that we grow up too fast now, achieving adulthood and abandoning Neverland before we should. Forgetting our old adventures as we discover the troubles and difficulties of adult responsibilities, which are much more difficult to battle than the pirates of our youth. Once upon a time we fought pirates and redskins, we defeated Captian Hook and watched as he fell to the crocodile. But we don’t remember that; we don’t remember Tiger Lily or the Neverbird. We’ve forgotten. And I cry for us, for our past. I do not wish to be Peter, who is still a little boy, but I do wish I could remember how to fly, just once, and head back to Neverland for another adventure.

Deep within us, there is a sprinkle of fairy dust and a happy thought, and that will let us fly. In the shadows there is a boy in a garment of green playing the pipes or brandishing a dagger. He’s crying as he tries to stick his shadow back on with soap or perhaps he’s crowing with glee and delight. Some night while you are sitting in your room, you’ll hear a crow and the window will blow open and a boy will drop in on the floor. He will be the same as ever, and he will have all his first teeth.  Now he might forget you from time to time, but you mustn’t forget him, for he will come back eventually. He is a careless little boy. Peter doesn’t change, we do. But if you listen closely you can hear him whispering to you.

“Just always be waiting for me, and some night you will hear me crowing.”