Growing up in the South, you quickly learn pretty girls are a dime a dozen. They are everywhere and believe me, they know they’re pretty. It’s been ingrained in them as part of their birth rite. Not to mention all the Daddys, Grandpas, and big brothers who are talking about the pretty young things. As I’m getting older, I’m having to face my face. And that means, embracing the Southern ladies who came before me and that will come after I’m gone.
Don’t get me wrong, we’re a friendly bunch. However, knowing you’re pretty and then facing our Mamas are something else. If we don’t have enough makeup on, they tell us. If we have too much on, they tell us. Quite frankly, I don’t know a Southern woman yet that’s been told she’s wearing too much makeup.
It’s also a point of contention for every girl growing up with a Southern mama. They’re strict. My own mother was made to walk in the house with a book on her head to perfect her walk and posture. My Grandmother used to tell my sister she was going to strap a broom handle to her back so she wouldn’t slump/hunch her shoulders when she walked.
Remember, “Pretty Is as Pretty Does”.
Beauty is the eternal be-all end-all. I was the “smart one”, so I received daily missives about what was lacking in my “routine”. Problem is, I loved makeup. I still do. However, I’ve always preferred an understated, natural look, even if I’m wearing enough makeup to carve my initials in. Yet, all of my problems, especially as a teen, probably could have been solved with a little more lipstick.
Southern women are bred with distinctiveness. No matter what the circumstance is, you won’t see us in public without makeup on and leaving the house with wet-hair is an abomination. Many of us, and I’m guilty of it as well, have been known to appear in public with yoga pants. I just won’t tell my Mother, nor my Grandmother, of this shortcoming.
Believe me, we don’t do it for vanity. For years, I really thought it was about vanity and was greatly concerned about my life in the hereafter. Yet, as I get older, I realize that vanity isn’t what drives us to do what we do. It’s self-respect. That term is thrown around with anything a Southern woman should be able to do. “No self-respecting woman would ________.” If you fill in the blanks, a few would be “buy frozen biscuits,” “make powdered tea,” “use any mayonnaise other than Duke’s,” “serve unsweetened tea,” or “go out in public in that state.”
Which is why I look in the mirror more. It’s why I face my face. Sure my nose gives me grief on occasion, but I have wide-open expressive eyes. My lips are pretty darn good and my teeth, while straightened by orthodontia, still choose to show the hereditary family gap. Yes, I’m having some of the hormonal issues that come with being older, meaning my skin is whack-a-doodle, I just have to go with the flow and reach for my retinol, sunscreen and concealer.
I’m a Southern woman and with it comes a litany of things expected of me and all of the other born and bred Southern women that surround me. I can’t outrun who I am, nor who I was raised to be. I can only face it.
This is part of a new Monday series I’ve started with Amy Bradley-Hole and Candice Kahn. We’re makeup lovers. It runs in our veins and in the event of a bad storm, occasionally down our faces. In the name of authenticity, I needed to share my story with you, before sharing my borderline obsession love of all things cosmetic.