I recently came across a post that caught my eye. You know those ones that circulate like wildfire, garnering thousands of hits in one day? It was entitled “Thirty Gorgeous Celebs Who Fearlessly Pose Makeup-Free.” You may have seen it, you may have not; that’s not the point. The point is, there is nothing fearless about posing without makeup.
Fearless is confronting illness head on and battling relentlessly. Fearless is having a career that benefits the greater good even though it may put your own life in danger. Fearless is standing up against the odds and coming out on top.
It is NOT being photographed without make-up on. And if this is what society deems as “fearless,” then we have our priorities severely out of whack. We should not be teaching young girls that bravery equates to a makeup-free selfie. We should be impressing upon them that bravery is working hard to reach their goals, no matter what may stand in their way. Like a shallow, self-indulgent society.
Yesterday I had a rather impromptu visit from one of my best friends. Let me set the stage first: I’ve been home with my daughter the entire week, and I have rarely changed my clothes, let alone brushed my hair. In walks my glamorous best friend who happened to be in the neighborhood because she was visiting a jeweler that is supplying pieces for the show she is styling for L.A. Fashion Week…. Which seems like an utterly foreign concept to me at this very moment.
She struts in with her gorgeous ensemble, flawless hair, makeup perfectly done, and tons of stories to tell. I listen with rapt attention (except for when baby girl calls for us; then we both turn and play with her). My girlfriend is filling me in on her upcoming few days; pulling and planning outfits for a show in Downtown L.A. to start off L.A. Fashion Week. Oh, and did she mention that she could possibly be visiting India within a couple of days? Sigh.
I am beyond happy for her and God knows I am thrilled to listen. And as I give her my attention, I look down at my sweats (that I have been wearing for three straight days, mind you), noticing a splotch of dried food towards the cuff of my pants. Awesome. I wonder what blob of baby food it is (which reminds me of my favorite line from the movie Baby Mama: “is it poop or is it chocolate?” but I digress). I tune back into the excitement that is my beautiful friend’s life and I am not-so-secretly jealous.
The visit is lovely; I fill her in on my life, which consists of Charlotte, Charlotte, and more Charlotte. Which, don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love. She claps and grins and hugs and plays and my heart melts. And then I think of whisking myself away to India on a moment’s notice. L.A. Fashion Week sounds more and more distant, even though it’s about ten miles away.
Oh, and then there’s the girl I graduated high school with, who also had a baby the same day Charlotte was born, who’s hosting her own television show about fashion on E! This chick looks skinnier than she did before she had the baby and is as glamorous as I will ever dream to be. I’m positive she’ll be going to L.A. Fashion Week, too. The closest thing to a fashion show that I will be experiencing any time soon is Carter’s big Spring Sale. And I’m OK with that. In fact, if my days are filled with claps and grins and hugs, then I’m beyond OK with that (albeit a little not-so-secretly jealous).