Make-up, huh?

I just had the most random experience (though, while I think on it, something similar has happened many times before). Just outside the office where I work is an information desk. There are three different ladies who work shifts at the info desk. B just started a few months ago; I like her a lot. She is very friendly, and I've noticed that she carries herself with a grace and dignity that speaks of confidence. I envy her that grace. Perhaps that's why her words today have had such an effect on me; their effect is such that I can't stop thinking about it and I have been driven to blog about it.

I was taking my lunch, sitting on one of the benches in the lobby reading when B left her post at the info desk and came to sit next to me. She announced that she was going to interrupt my reading (hmmm, not even the slightest hint of apology for the interuption...oh well). I couldn't be bugged, however, because she proceeded to compliment me very highly. "I just wanted to tell you, Chicken Dust, that you are one of the prettiest girls I have ever seen." Wow, that was really nice. I thanked her sincerely and felt highly flattered. (The pick-me-up was very welcome today as I was feeling mostly less than presentable.) It's not so random for people to be nice, the crazy part was what followed. "You know, Chicken Dust, a little make-up would be wonderful...[lots of extoling the wonders of make-up]...most girls would love to have what you have to work with." Oh, but there's more. Apparently, B was a model in her younger years, and quite successful from what she was telling me. She then taught modeling and confidence classes here at the University. So all this was coming from an expert...I'm one of the prettiest girls she's ever seen. hmm, I don't know how I feel about that.

I know, I know, I should feel flattered (and a tiny part of me sort of wants to), but the rest of me rebels at the idea. This isn't the first time I've been approached in this way. When I was in high school I actually got a call from a modeling agency asking if I would like to model for a magazine. (They called me because one of the girls I went to school with worked for them and had brought in her yearbook, through which they searched looking for potential victims. Imagine, getting a call because of a yearbook picture! Indeed.) I have on occasion had complete strangers come up to me and tell me that I was really pretty; yes this totally weirds me out. Now, I realize this entire paragraph seems much like a boast, and maybe it is. I do feel like I am WAY too vain occasionally, but I don't really mean to say these things to convince anyone that I am good looking. If anyone reads this, it will be either my sisters or my good friends, and I have nothing to prove to them. I just have to recount these instances to give background for the opinions I am going to express.

I tried to maintain composure and respond gracefully to B's comments. I hope I succeeded. Basically, the truth is, though, that I don't want to be pretty. I avoid make-up and spending time on my hair as if it was a terrible plague bent on my destruction. Past experience has led me to believe that being admired for physical beauty only leads to pain. True, I'd love to be pretty and well-liked for my dazzling personality; however, since I don't believe I can have both, I absolutely refuse to be pretty. Anyone reading this should be familiar with my experience with one M who was determined to make me "popular"; for those who don't know to what I am referring, I'm happy to have you reading my blog - maybe I'll recount the story sometime. Anyhow, I've decided I like being plain. It's much less complicated.

There's a deeper, more painful, issue involved though. I'm perfect; I always have
been. At least by outward appearances. Few people can come up with a good reason for not liking me - I'm smart, I'm helpful, I'm responsible, I'm pretty, I'm talented, I'm nice, I'm "spiritual," I'm easy to get along with, ad nauseum. The problem with being perfect in what I do is that I don't really know who I am. I've never been able to adequately describe this insecurity, but I tried a little with my post about La Dama del Alba. Anyone else could do what I do )even if it takes several anyone's to accomplish it all), so I'm completely dispensible. What is my worth as an individual? It's sort of confusing. Not that I have a low self-esteem, I know That I am all of those things I listed above. The problem comes in that I have never not been all of the above, so I don't know what I would be if I wasn't "perfect." If that makes any sense. Which it doesn't, oh well.

All this simply to say that I don't really want to wear make-up; I AM silly. I think the fact that I've been all alone for the last two weeks is really getting to me. I miss my roommates, my coworkers, my customers, my neighbors, and pretty much everyone. It's lonely around these parts right now, and I'm letting it get to me. But I'm done with this silliness. I'm okay.

With or without junk on my face.