What Did I Ever Want From Beauty?

Pre-Pandemic, When I cared

I wanted me. See I was a girl once. And I wanted people to tell me I was pretty, I thought it could become my identity. I thought it could become my new definition. I thought it mattered so much because boys would like me, my friends would like me, and mean girls would envy me. I thought it could become my worth. 

I was wrong.

Growing up, getting acne for a year, gaining and losing weight, it finally occurred to me that I am not what I look like. Now I’m 45. Being pretty is one of the last things on my mind, especially lately, during the pandemic where I wear yoga pants and tye-dye shirts all day, hardly straighten my hair, and only wear makeup on special occasions. 

Lately, I have forgotten what it means to care about what I look like and I want to examine what that means about me, about my life, and perhaps my version of my identity. I like feeling pretty, but it also takes effort, which I don’t mind. Putting on nice clothes, doing my hair, putting on make-up. I miss interacting with people all the time and trying to look like the best version of myself for those people. 

But now I am often alone, at home, maybe virtually teaching or tutoring. I am guilty of wearing a nice top with pajama pants on video calls for work. I’m guilty of not showering before I teach a class. I’m guilty of not giving a shit what I look like. 

There is freedom in this. I won’t lie. It’s like I don’t think of my face and body anymore when I think of who I am. Honestly, I don’t think of who I am that much when I’m alone. Maybe relationships with other people help us discover who we are, and isolation can make us forget. But I also know sometimes the opposite is true. 

No Makeup, No Care

I am thinking of dating again and I want someone to find me attractive and fall in love with me and think I am beautiful. I want to feel a reason to look nice for someone again. But for the last year or so, I have been on a beauty hiatus. 

I’ve stopped caring what I look like. And I put on 5 to 7 pounds during the pandemic, depending on the day of the week that I weigh myself. I’m not happy about this. I have more weight I want to lose. But who am I without my expensive beautiful clothing and my artfully applied makeup and my stylish hair?

It’s 2 o’clock in the morning and I’m wearing a shirt with a bird embroidered on the pocket that I got from the Salvation Army with polka dot pajama pants. I don’t look much cuter than this most days. Am I a better person because I’m somehow less superficial in my everyday concerns?

Not really, no. Not caring, or apathy about one’s appearance apparently does not make you a better person. But it has to have some effect on my very being, on who I am. I think the effect is this, I love myself just as much even when I look ugly. 

Too much Makeup for Eighties Party

When I say ugly, I may not be exaggerating. I can go weeks without tweezing my eyebrows. I’m not going to show you my ugly, because I am too vain. I will show you the best pictures of me without makeup on, and the best pictures of me dressed up.

Why can’t I show the world my ugly side? I’m just not there yet, I have not reached that level of humility. The truth is I still want people to think I’m pretty. Even though I’m gonna get old sooner rather than later, I know whatever looks I have will fade and all I will have is this personality. And I’ll have to live with that. 

What have I discovered about myself? I’m a cool person, I like myself, whether I look good or not. I’m OK with who I am without all the nice packaging. I’m OK with who I am raw and real. I would like to meet a man who I can be real with and show him my ugly side, and see if he can still love me. Not as a test, but more to see what he is truly loving about me. 

No Makeup and wearing Tye-Dye Shirt

Because we all have an ugly side, don’t we? Whether it be physical or psychological. I’ve seen my ugly side this past year. I can be mean and boring and bitter. I have been depressed and angry and sometimes lost hope. 

But I still like myself I find. My mind doesn’t always have to be pretty for me to like myself either. Sometimes I’m not happy and I’m not nice. To myself or anyone else. 

I have seen the ugly side of life during this pandemic, my parents have both been ill with various ailments non-Covid related and in and out of the hospital. I’ve been frustrated with being locked in my house, I’ve had a small bout of depression, I’ve lost the will to write. But I find through all this ugliness that life is still beautiful. 

And sometimes I look outside my window and see a ray of light and remember that beauty still exists. I love beauty. Maybe that’s why I want to be beautiful. But beauty is so complex and sophisticated and not what it looks like it should be. 

Put On Jewelry Even this Evening

Even my melancholy during these past months is kind of beautiful. Life is not as they say a bunch of roses, it’s everything. All of it. Aren’t we so lucky to experience it all? The agony and the ecstasy. The happiness and the pain. The ugliness and the pure uninhibited presence of beauty in all of it. 

Life is beautiful, the name of a movie about the Holocaust. If the Holocaust can be beautiful, so can a worldwide pandemic. If I can be beautiful sitting here with my hair everywhere and my mismatched clothes, you are beautiful too.      

nina