Brian woke up this morning and told me he had a dream I was a fashion model. I laughed, as I was placed in modeling school as a child. Back then, they did not put any makeup on me and the photos were black and white. It was very natural and basic. I enjoyed learning how to apply makeup, how to walk on the runway, and how to work a room.
Things have changed.
I walked into a modeling audition, in Scottsdale 14 years ago. I was assessed and turned away pretty quickly. They took one look at me, checked my stats, and candidly and bluntly told me I had way too much bleach in my hair, my boobs were way too big, and I was not a size 4. A size 4 was a requirement. I believe I was a size 6 at the time. They did say, however, I might be a good fit for commercial modeling and encouraged me to audition. I declined.
It was amazing how quickly I was turned away based on a few observations and running a few numbers. I was humbled, but could not do much about my boob size and blonde and I are the best of friends, so that is not something I’m willing to give up any time soon. The older I get, the more bleach I tend to add. I used to have white blonde hair, as a young child, & then, as I’ve aged, it has become an ashy, dishwater blonde. I adore my kids hair, the white blonde, beautiful natural blonde. I’d love to have Hope’s hair.
I see beauty everywhere I look. Beauty is NOT: one look, one ethnicity, one race, one size, one measurement, one dimension, but rather it is in everyone and everything, in subtle and big ways. Beauty is a million and one things. Some say it’s one dimension, one exact ratio, one mathematical group of numbers put together to create a perfectly beautiful human being, one quotient.
I recently learned from a woman that performs Botox that there is a beauty measurement tool, a silver apparatus that can measure the distance between our eyes, the distance between our eyebrows, and more. It looks like a protractor. It looks like something I used in geometry class. This apparatus measures every and anything on our faces.
Several years ago, a study was conducted. Several models dimensions were measured. They wanted to discover what made these people beautiful and a perfect calculation and ratio was created. We are to aim to have these measurements, too, in order to be considered more beautiful.
I was offered the opportunity to be measured by the woman that performs Botox. I politely declined. Was told there was too much distance between my eyebrows. Highlighter was applied to either side of my nose, parallel lines were drawn, vertically, as they were trying to thin out my nose. Were they indicating that my nose was too wide? & then, brow powder was applied to my brows. I am an over plucker. According to the beauty experts, if one plucks too much at the ends, it can add 10 years. If we over pluck, it ages us, too.
I appreciated the tips very much because I don’t pay much attention to details regarding age. I slap makeup on, rarely, and scoot out.
I didn’t know there was a measurement for beauty, as I see beauty in all things. I see beauty in the hearts of those around me, in how people treat others, in the ways in which they offer sympathy and empathy, and how they give of themselves.
Perhaps our lines, wrinkles, freckles, moles, and scars are small reminders that we’ve lived a life filled with trials and tribulations, joy-filled moments strung together with a little sadness and happiness in between. I like the two little freckles under my eyes. They aren’t symmetrical and I like it that way. I like freckles, moles, and birthmarks. I think they are incredibly beautiful and should not be hidden.
If I get Botox injections, in a way, all those moments of joy and laughter, sadness and sorrow, and trials and tribulations, that have made me who I am, will be erased. My past, as bumpy of a road as it has been, has helped me to become who I am today. Maybe it is a reminder of how far I’ve come that I don’t want to remove.
I will not be putting needles in my face. I’m expressive, over the top, loud, and when I laugh, often times, the entire room will turn and look at me, and this is after zero margaritas. & if people want Botox, that’s fine if that is the very thing that brings them joy and happiness, but it’s not for me.
I’ll have fun with makeup and flaunt my false eyelashes, once in a while, but I’m not going to measure this face of mine to see if I ‘measure up’ to how ‘close’ or ‘far away’ I am from living up to the ratio of perfect beauty. I find it absurd.
Our imperfections are the very things that make us beautiful, unique, special, and awesome. Not changing anything. I’ll admit, I’m so incredibly far from perfect, but I’ll take it. It’s how I was made.
I want my children to love themselves by embracing all that they are. I don’t want them to aim to look different because they see themselves as flawed. I hope my children never see or buy this tool. I hope my kids never, for a single moment in time, think that their faces are anything less than beautiful, perfect, and amazing. I hope they never think there is a single thing wrong with them. My wish is that they can embrace what God has blessed them with.
He made them perfect in His eyes. He made us all perfect in His eyes.
Aiming to look your best is one thing, but feeling the need to change your face, based on one person’s perspective & invention of a tool that measures ones’s beauty, is something completely different.
I’m good, thanks. I’m going to rock what my mom and dad gave me and listen to God. I’m perfectly made & I’m good enough & I’m beautiful. & so are you.