Tag Archives: tattoo

Aug23

Au Natural?

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I’d call this a confession, except that it’s not a surprise to anyone who knows me. In many ways, I’m not very “girly” in outward appearance and behavior.

  • Can’t stand the sensation of makeup on my face; don’t wear cosmetics.
  • Don’t apply lashes or artificial fingernails.
  • Stopped using any hair color; let it grow out flecked with grey.
  • Just wash ‘n go for the hair styling (don’t even blowdry, curl or brush it).
  • Wear skirts occasionally; and dresses, hardly ever.
  • Don’t pad anything (have enough natural for wherever it’s needed, and then some).
  • Choose to avoid wearing heels (hurt my feet, can’t walk, can’t stand very long, back hurts, knees hurt, lose my balance, sprain ankles, that kind of thing).
  • Refuse to weigh myself. (I am what I am.)
  • Shave legs on an urgent as-needed basis only.

There’s some hope, if you’re feeling concerned about my professed lack of “girliness.” To be clear, I’m discussing this in terms of appearance;  presenting myself or undergoing salon treatments to achieve what we culturally perceive as a feminine style. This is in contrast to talking about “girliness” in reference to biological gender or sexual orientation, which are separate items. (As I was reminded last weekend during OWL / Our Whole Lives training, human sexuality and gender roles and cultural typecasting and body images and our ideas about femininity are all very complex.)

What I do like, that might be considered “girly?”

  • Enjoy wearing bright colors.
  • Enjoy loose, flowy clothing. (Girly?)
  • Recently underwent my first bikini wax. (Wow, that’s an experience all by itself. Do research if you want more details. Otherwise, just imagine a really friendly woman working around your naked nether regions with hot wax, chatting and then giving you a quick warning as she uproots hair follicles. You consent to this procedure, by the way. And you thank her for her expertise.)
  • Enjoy pedicures: relish some aspects of getting my toenails trimmed and polished, though my soles are ticklish and I won’t let salon staff use nail files (can’t stand the sensation).
  • Love massages.
  • Feel naked without a pair of vivid earrings (also collect them from wherever I travel).
  • Fond of henna tattoos.

So there’s a modicum of “girliness” going on in my life and self-care, if that’s how you define “girly.” (And remember, one of my daughters was a princess in style, and I cheered her for that approach to life. So don’t think I’m setting up the pros and cons of this style. I’m not.)

My older daughter Sarah learned to apply makeup without any help from me. Years ago. Maybe friends advised her? At first, her application (mostly around the eyes) was extreme: dark and thick. It made a definite statement; it also suited her age and mood in middle school. Now she wears a more neutral palette: open and confident and attractive in a different way. Like many women, including my friends, she prefers to travel with mascara, eyeliner and lip balm, at a minimum.

Lots of my friends feel that way. Practically naked without some cosmetics. The baseline depends on the person. Some just need lipstick and mascara. Some need foundation, eye liner, mascara, eyeshadow, eyebrow pencils, lipstick, blush and whatever else might go with all those layers. Emergency touch-up supplies packed tidily into compartments and available as needed while on the go.

A few friends have even had their eyes tattooed with eye liner (kohl-style). Or had lashes glued on in a more permanent way. Hair extensions. Or parts of their bodies slowly defoliated with treatments that are relatively permanent.

Everybody feels differently about what they want and like to do to their bodies. Some of it seems like torture to me, and yet we enjoy the results, if not the process. Some of it is easily removed or reversed. Some lasts a while. Some, I suppose, is permanent, but that’s probably in the realm of surgical alteration and not what I’m thinking about right now.

I found a picture of me and our exchange student Chicca. Our feet, actually. With newly painted toenails. We sipped Zumis and finished pedicures, got some White Farms ice cream, and went for a walk on Crane Beach.

Walking in sand is a natural exfoliation treatment, right? As if I needed a reason to walk there. Or to feel good about myself while doing it.

I don’t. I do.

You? Me? We are beautiful, however we choose to make ourselves up. Or not. To be “girly” or not. To be whomever we are, in whatever ways we want to be. Inside. Outside. Painted. Bare. Perfect. Flawed. Me. You. Just ourselves.

Jul20

Molting

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I started this journal by admitting that I’d woven feathers into my hair. At the time, it was a celebration of taking chances and investing in the next step toward personal and professional development.

The day I got feathers, I’d just returned from taking the GRE (graduate school exam), a necessary precursor to my application for admission to Harvard. It was a big risk. I’d studied. Crammed.

Ultimately, I performed reasonably well on the language portion, but although I tried to catch up on math concepts that I hadn’t used for about 30 years, only 14% of all Americans who took the GRE did worse than me. (Did you follow that sentence, and its bit of math … tricky, huh?) Luckily, I’m not pursuing a degree that relies heavily on numbers, phew!

Anyway, the GRE wasn’t the most important part of my application. Essays and recommendations were probably more important. But taking a standardized test for the first time was a big deal (to me). Sweat. Performance anxiety. Sleepless nights. Hours of study. It meant I was serious about this whole process. And I was being measured against a lot of other people who also have graduate school dreams and vocational aspirations … you get the idea.

So I’ve had these feathers since December. And for those who are curious, but haven’t had the chance to ask, you can shampoo feathers. You can brush and style them, if you want. When you get your hair cut, the feathers come out, and after the cut, they’re knotted back into place. They’re attached by a knot, but they basically stay in for a lo-o-o-o-o-o-nnnngggg time.

See, I had about 12 or so feathers when I started out. All kinds of colors. Over the course of several months (seven, but who’s counting?), they fell out a little at a time.

The last one drifted to the ground, and I didn’t even see it happen. I washed my hair this morning, and didn’t find any more plumes. Sigh. The feathers are gone. This phase is over, it seems.

The feathers were … what, a symbolic act? An external recognition of an exciting accomplishment (surviving hours in a cubicle answering questions on a computer, knowing I was bombing on the math, because my 16-digit answers didn’t fit into the 2-digit blank answer box)? A sheer giddy indulgence?

All of the above.

Their slow shedding has been, in a way, a metaphorical measurement of the many steps that have passed since I sat down to take the GRE. 43 drafts of an essay later, I completed the entire application process. Filed it online. Waited until mid-March for acceptance. Waited longer, through rounds of debate about how we’d pay for graduate school and Sarah’s college at the same time, to decide if I’d accept a spot in the 3-year, full-time MDIV program at Harvard’s Divinity School. Stayed below the radar screen a lot of the time, because this summer and this autumn are so focused on Sarah’s transition to Northeastern to study nursing, that I often forget that I have my own forms to complete, loans to secure, classes to choose and many other administrative steps to finish, also.

The final feather disappeared on the same day that I opened my new student email account, submitted my bio and picture, and looked at the list of classes available for registration. I’m still bad at math, by the way. But I can count to zero (no feathers).

Now my head is a blank canvas again; it awaits a new cut, and perhaps more decoration. Maybe I’ll re-plume. Maybe not.

Meanwhile, the first burst of feathers fulfilled its role … it served as a talisman, while I dared to dive into the unknown depths of a new adventure.

How do we outwardly mark milestones? With jewelry like class rings or engagement diamonds, perhaps. With a tattoo, permanent or temporary. A piercing. A badge or pin. A uniform or new type of clothing. Head gear. A name tag. Some grooming of hair, nails or skin, such as a haircut, mani/pedi, facial or other makeover.  A change in external style.

Other landmarks are never visible. We often don’t wear insignia to show where we have been, what we have endured and overcome, where we are going next.

Ultimately, you can’t look at a person and read their entire story based only on an outward appearance. But sometimes, it’s fun to provide a clue about what’s going on inside.

Feathers, for instance.