I feel like I have to stitch my heart back together
I saw the future and it hurt my eyes
I saw the truth and my heart exploded
No way to explain it
Greatness is the only word that fills my mouth
You are there
You are here
You have always been
You are truth
Because of some experiences in my childhood I became very uncomfortable with being a girl. Little by little I am learning to embrace myself and accept every feature of the lady that I am (becoming). First of all, life has so many ups and downs. To overcome hard times it is so much easier when you know who you are and what you want. Being at peace with yourself can get you a long way.
Second of all, I sincerely believe that both men and women are unique beings that each have their special features, born in the right time with the right talents and ingredients, etc. to make this world a better place. As a woman there are things in my life and lifetime that I can and will face and take on in certain ways because I am a woman and those ways will work. What I am trying to say is, I guess, that I have purpose. That me being a woman/born a girl is neither a curse nor a burden.
When I was about eleven years old, I started playing with makeup. But only at home. I used to really paint myself (terrible) and spend a lot of time experimenting with makeup because that is what most young girls do and I really thought it was beautiful. But as I grew older and started wearing (better) makeup out the door? I did not like the attention it drew to me. So I only put on makeup when I felt fierce enough to not care about the cattcalls and whenever I felt like wearing it. Because I would also soon discover that wearing makeup was not the issue. Beside cattcalls, comments from other women and young girls and even the way some women perceived wearing makeup would give me a knot in my stomach.
As I started learning that everything can be used for good and less good, I started caring less.
I went on to believe that wearing makeup was pointless. I really thought that nobody should like me for the extra stuff I put on my face, but I should be liked for who I am without makeup first (in the words of Tamar Braxton: you tried it).
When I got a job as a journalist I only wore makeup for certain occasions. For interviews or events I would attend to report. After switching jobs, there was a time that I got more responsibility. Those days made me feel really empowered and I wore more makeup because I felt like that would make me more professional and would make me ‘look right for the part’. Somehow that made sense.
I learned that wearing makeup is not necessarily about wanting to be liked and seeking attention. I can compare it to going to school with your ripped notebook and attending an executors meeting with a ripped notebook. You’ll want to look like you have your life together.
Recently the makeup debate in my head set in again. I wanted to look like certain types of girls (flawless makeup) because I like a guy with flawless skin. But I quickly recovered. As much as I would like for this guy to notice me, I hate changing (things about) myself for people and especially those that don’t know me. I have started to take better care of my skin, because it does make me feel good. But I would like to do more. I have always written visits to the beauty parlor off as a waste of money and a waste of time. But I still wonder why makeup and beautyparlors are so important to other women. I did a little bit of reflecting and researching. This blog post is part of the result. I learned that femininity is a bit of a challenge to me and that wearing makeup is harmless to who a person is and can even be an art of presentation ( I am pro expression).
So, if there is anyone out there that does not fully understand where they stand on makeup and why. This blog post might be a bit of help.
I am continuing my journey in celebration of everything that I am. Maybe I’ll have regular visits to beauty parlors, maybe not. But I will surely be more confident in my skin and more understanding to ladies that do visit beautyparlors every month. (It is the price of a whole entire book or a movie night!)
I know You’re here. Filling my eyes with tears. Holding me in Your embrace.
I know You’re here.
Pulling on my wings, my legs and arms. Urging me to fly higher, to dance more free than I used to be. I know You’re here.
Inviting me in. Into this dance of life with you, making sure that at the end I’ll be at Your table to drink the wine and brake the bread…soaked in mercy and free. Like You made me to be. I know You are here.
Oh yes, my eyes can see and my limbs can tell. The way You are lifting up my head to fully enjoy, see You, scent the beauty of heaven and feel fine sunshine on my skin.
You are here, taking me in.
Beauty came out of a car
Was thin, very tall.
Beauty had knobs instead of breasts
That still held a pretty bikini top
My eyes followed the contours of beauty’s body
From above to under, beneath to up.
My world froze when beauty, half folded,
Stuck a hand and a foot out before the others, got out of that car
On that Sunday morning
Like in a movie
I can still feel how everything went into slow motion.
Beauty’s flat ass was held in short shorts of jeans
Watch around the wrists,
Unattractive person actually
But the structure of those cheekbones,
That boyish carelessness,
My heart didn’t pound
But my eyes knew not where to rest
Apart from the object of my interest
I was platonically obsessed
With a clueless perfect confusion
Of the same sex.
Posted from WordPress for Android
At the office, trying to display my crappy style that I actually love. And I love my hair.