Not too long ago, I revealed to a close friend that I had opted for a cosmetic enhancement several years back—a personal decision I had kept close to my chest, only shared with a handful of trusted friends. Her response was rather nonchalant. “Well, you’ve always cared about your appearance,” she remarked.
I was taken aback and a bit wounded. To me, being vain conjures images of self-absorbed individuals, particularly women, who would do anything, even harm their loved ones, to maintain their looks (cue the classic fairy tales like Snow White). I certainly didn’t fit that stereotype, but her comment made me rethink the line between self-pride and vanity.
As a child, my first impressions of beauty were shaped by my mother, who would take my sisters and me to the makeup counters, spending hours testing lipsticks and eye shadows while we fiddled with skin type testers. My mom wasn’t a fashionista, but her self-worth was undeniably tied to her eyeliner and beauty routines. She didn’t hesitate to impart her beauty wisdom—teaching me to shave my legs at ten, suggesting I “might want to address that mustache” at eleven. Our bathroom sessions bonding over beauty products became a norm.
In fifth grade, when I was finally allowed to wear eye shadow, I rummaged through my mom’s outdated makeup collection, settling on a cracked baby blue shadow. I slathered it on, half-closing my eyes to appear more enchanting during my birthday party, though it made roller skating a bit precarious.
Despite differing opinions on her approach, I eventually embraced my mother’s lessons on beauty. She taught me that beauty is achievable with the right tools and that inner qualities like intelligence matter just as much as outer appearances. I realized I could be both smart and pretty.
Then came adolescence, the ultimate confidence killer. Many friends blossomed while I felt like a scrawny weed, teased and compared to characters like “Sweetchuck” from the Police Academy movies. Middle school was brutal, especially when I heard the mean-spirited phrase, “The Young and the Chestless,” directed at me.
It took time, puberty, and a few training bras to rebuild my self-esteem. As I moved into my twenties, I rediscovered the magic of eyeliner and lip gloss, thanks to my mother’s teachings. I never woke up looking fabulous, but I always had a strategy to feel good about myself. Looking good made me feel more confident, intelligent, and empowered.
Admittedly, I find joy in enhancing my appearance—whatever that means for me. I enjoy dressing up, receiving compliments, and catching my reflection in store windows. I hit the gym, avoid carbs, wear sunscreen religiously, and think of makeup as my secret weapon. I strive to ensure my inner self matches my outer self, and I take pride in both aspects. Whether or not that qualifies as vanity is up to interpretation.
As I approach my 40s, I recognize the unique challenges aging brings for women. Society’s obsession with youth can be daunting, and I grapple with finding an age-appropriate look. I’m no supermodel—cellulite, fine lines, and bunions are part of my reality. I no longer aim to dress like I’m 25, but I do want to feel and look my best for as long as possible, hopefully for the rest of my life.
For more on embracing beauty and body image, check out this related post on our site. And if you’re seeking resources on fertility and home insemination, the Women’s Health website is an excellent place to start. For those considering at-home insemination, you might find the products at this reputable online retailer helpful.
In summary, wanting to look good isn’t a flaw; it’s a personal expression of pride and self-care that many women navigate in their own unique ways.
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