You Went, Girl

Yesterday I went shopping with friends. Girl friends. I spend some much time in the testosterone-frenzy that is my home that I crave a little estrogen time.

I hate shopping. Anyone who knows me knows that. And we went to the mall, which was crammed with people, just swarms of people invading every available surface.

Did you know that there is a whole store dedicated to makeup? Well, I didn't. But I went there as both of my friends needed new makeup. I browsed and felt an appalling mixture of feelings, a bizarre combination of "every woman is beautiful" and "you, personally, are ugly." The sheer amount of products in the store was fascinating and also wholly depressing.

I feel that there is nothing wrong with self improvement. In fact, I'm on that whole self improvement kick, wanting to do whatever I can to make me the best me and all that.

One of my friends was wearing makeup when we went into the store and she knows how to artfully apply it so that it is eye-catching. My other friend wasn't and she opted for help from one of the makeup consultants at the store. It was fascinating to watch the chemistry involved in mixing just the right ingredients to accentuate this feature and to downplay that.

Seeing the results made me want to try it, too, so I followed around an employee as she led me in the sparkly world of liquid eyeshadow and glossy lipsticks. When she was done, I had just a bit of cover on my eyes and a mute shade on my lips, but the effect was stunning and my eyes were so damned green.

I felt like I was flying a little bit. I wasn't wearing makeup that was particularly eyecatching and I wasn't going to catch anyone's eye, but I literally haven't worn ANY makeup for years.

And then there was a little part of me that felt sad because I was buying into that which I hate, a whole industry propogated on the fact that women never feel good enough, that they have to undergo chemical peels and grueling daily routines just to leave the house in the morning. I'm all for taking care of myself and I moisturize my skin and I like feeling good. What I resent is the images of perfection peering down from every corner, the impossibly thin women with hip bones protruding and products such as "fat girl cellulite cream."

The store was packed, young girls and older women all pawing products that promise beauty. Do they deliver?

What is beauty anyway?