beauty

I am attempting to write an article on beauty with the hopes of submitting it to O magazine. One recent issue of the publication stated boldly on the front that they are starting a beauty revolution. Articles were silken in their praise of us just as we are, nestled in a hefty surrounding dose of plastic surgery ads. We are downright schizophrenic in our ideas about beauty, and the number one enemy for all seems to be age (time + gravity).

I don't really have anything to say about beauty in my article. I am as confused and conflicted as the next beauty-wanna-be.

In my teens, I wrestled with two ideas about being gorgeous:

1. A woman is beautiful in proportion to the amount of cosmetics she can afford to leave alone. (A twist on Thoreau's definition of a man's wealth.)
2. If the house needs painting, paint it.

Which door would I choose: number one or number two?

I stepped through each one at different times and was sorely disappointed by both. If I left myself au naturel, my mother thought I was ill, and people pretty much ignored me. If I put on makeup, I got unwanted stares and acne.

I talked with a friend about my debate, and he sagely advised that the ideas number one and two are not necessarily mutually exclusive.

Oh.

Well, I suppose, there you have it.