This is love:
We pulled into the driveway last night, and when I got out I stepped on a snail. This is something I've managed to avoid doing since I moved here nearly 5 years ago, and the very thought of it as always grossed me out to the point of nausea. We didn't have snails in Illinois, but here, especially when it rains, they're everywhere. So I got all grossed out and whiny, and I was still fending off the involuntary shudders while cleaning the kitchen ten minutes later when Dan went outside for a minute. When he came back in I asked where he'd gone, and he said he moved the car. Puzzled, I asked why, and he said, "So you don't have to see the snail next time you go out."
How sweet is that? Those of you who are still searching for the love of your life, let me tell you, it's these little gestures that count. Anyone can plan big romantic dinners or elaborate dates, but when someone picks up on the little things you say and do, and then spontaneously does something about them to try to make you happy, you know you've found someone who's real quality. Dan is the King of Little Gestures That Speak Volumes. I'm so lucky.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Deprogramming
We saw The Lion King last night. Strictly speaking, it was not the best show I've ever seen, but I have to say, the costumes were unlike anything I ever could have imagined. The audience burst into spontaneous applause when the animals were all coming in for the opening number, "Circle of Life." I would give anything to be able to go back in time and be in on the costume design meetings that yielded these ideas.
So, I'm getting ready to go to the show, and I'm putting on my makeup. I've never been super-excited about doing my makeup, but with this side business of selling jewelry, I have to remember that I'm selling an image, not just a product, and I have to dress accordingly. But I'll be honest and admit that there's a part of me that feels like I really need to wear it, so I do.
Later, Dan looks at me with this forlorn face and says, "Ali, you're so beautiful, you don't need all that stuff! Why do you do that to yourself?" And the weird thing (and one of the thousands of reasons why I ADORE my husband) is that he's being completely serious. He's not just trying to butter me up or something. He hates it when I wear makeup. He really and truly thinks I look better without it.
It makes me wonder why I don't see what he sees when I look at myself. Why do I not see the smile that lights up a room and the eyes with the depth of oceans? Why does my gaze instantly go to the light freckles above my lip that I swear make me look like I have a mustache and the pores you could sail ships in? And why, even when I'm having one of my extremely rare good skin days, do I still think I really should put on some foundation?
One of my teacher friends is not, in her words, a "girlie girl." She doesn't like dresses and skirts and flowery things and pink and makeup. She especially loathes makeup, and can only think of three times she's ever worn it. She told me once that she doesn't want to wear makeup when she teaches because she wants her girl students to see that a woman can be perfectly comfortable in her own skin without having to doll it up. Given where we live, in the liposuction and plastic surgery capital of the world, this is a lesson that these girls desperately need to be taught. And I remember being so impressed that she could do that. And she's not one some Noxema model with skin that looks airbrushed even in person. She's a normal woman with normal skin that has a mind of its own sometimes, and she's okay with that. And I find myself very jealous of her confidence.
So I started trying to figure out who it is I'm putting the makeup on for in the first place. I used to do it to get guys' attention, but obviously there's no need for that, and frankly it didn't help me get the guy I've got because he hates it all anyway. Then I thought of that line from the song, "Wild Night:" "All the girls are dressed up for each other..." And I realized that I don't care what the guys think I look like. It's the women's opinion I'm worried about. What the heck!?!?!? And I thought back to when I first started wearing makeup in high school, and how I was always more concerned with how the popular girls might perceive me than the guys of any social rank. And even though the girl is outta high school by a decade, apparently the high school is not out of the girl, because I still find myself intimidated by beautiful women and worried about what they'll think of my clothes, my hair, my skin. They could be 19 years old and more shallow than a puddle in the desert and I'd still think, "She's totally mocking my skirt in her head, I can see it." WHY ON EARTH DO I CARE?!
So I'm thinking I've been brainwashed by society, by makeup commercials, by the guy in high school who once pointed to a billboard with some Baywatch girl on it and said, "Now, if only you looked like her...,"by the clothes in Express and Limited that are supposedly my size but wouldn't fit me unless I lost three inches off my hips. And I'd really love to say I'm throwing my makeup out today and thumbing my nose at the supposed standard of beauty our culture promotes. But I'm not there yet. But I'd love to know that there are some others like me out there who would love to deprogram along with me and learn to see the beauties that we are underneath all the base and cover-up and mascara.
Anybody?
So, I'm getting ready to go to the show, and I'm putting on my makeup. I've never been super-excited about doing my makeup, but with this side business of selling jewelry, I have to remember that I'm selling an image, not just a product, and I have to dress accordingly. But I'll be honest and admit that there's a part of me that feels like I really need to wear it, so I do.
Later, Dan looks at me with this forlorn face and says, "Ali, you're so beautiful, you don't need all that stuff! Why do you do that to yourself?" And the weird thing (and one of the thousands of reasons why I ADORE my husband) is that he's being completely serious. He's not just trying to butter me up or something. He hates it when I wear makeup. He really and truly thinks I look better without it.
It makes me wonder why I don't see what he sees when I look at myself. Why do I not see the smile that lights up a room and the eyes with the depth of oceans? Why does my gaze instantly go to the light freckles above my lip that I swear make me look like I have a mustache and the pores you could sail ships in? And why, even when I'm having one of my extremely rare good skin days, do I still think I really should put on some foundation?
One of my teacher friends is not, in her words, a "girlie girl." She doesn't like dresses and skirts and flowery things and pink and makeup. She especially loathes makeup, and can only think of three times she's ever worn it. She told me once that she doesn't want to wear makeup when she teaches because she wants her girl students to see that a woman can be perfectly comfortable in her own skin without having to doll it up. Given where we live, in the liposuction and plastic surgery capital of the world, this is a lesson that these girls desperately need to be taught. And I remember being so impressed that she could do that. And she's not one some Noxema model with skin that looks airbrushed even in person. She's a normal woman with normal skin that has a mind of its own sometimes, and she's okay with that. And I find myself very jealous of her confidence.
So I started trying to figure out who it is I'm putting the makeup on for in the first place. I used to do it to get guys' attention, but obviously there's no need for that, and frankly it didn't help me get the guy I've got because he hates it all anyway. Then I thought of that line from the song, "Wild Night:" "All the girls are dressed up for each other..." And I realized that I don't care what the guys think I look like. It's the women's opinion I'm worried about. What the heck!?!?!? And I thought back to when I first started wearing makeup in high school, and how I was always more concerned with how the popular girls might perceive me than the guys of any social rank. And even though the girl is outta high school by a decade, apparently the high school is not out of the girl, because I still find myself intimidated by beautiful women and worried about what they'll think of my clothes, my hair, my skin. They could be 19 years old and more shallow than a puddle in the desert and I'd still think, "She's totally mocking my skirt in her head, I can see it." WHY ON EARTH DO I CARE?!
So I'm thinking I've been brainwashed by society, by makeup commercials, by the guy in high school who once pointed to a billboard with some Baywatch girl on it and said, "Now, if only you looked like her...,"by the clothes in Express and Limited that are supposedly my size but wouldn't fit me unless I lost three inches off my hips. And I'd really love to say I'm throwing my makeup out today and thumbing my nose at the supposed standard of beauty our culture promotes. But I'm not there yet. But I'd love to know that there are some others like me out there who would love to deprogram along with me and learn to see the beauties that we are underneath all the base and cover-up and mascara.
Anybody?
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