Some call me a connoisseur and some call me a collector. Some call me and addict and others call me an artist.
Whatever my label, one look at my vanity and portfolio can tell you that I not only have a weakness for makeup but that I also admire the artistry that accompanies it.
While friends and family love this little hobby of mine when photo shoots and formal events pop up on their calendars, there is an unexpected side effect I've discovered of sitting in a makeup chair.
“I’m sorry you have to touch my face.”
“I’m breaking out right now and it’s disgusting. So sorry about that.”
“Do the best you can, but I don’t have the best face to work with. I’m sorry.”
“Your makeup is so beautiful. Don’t judge me on how bad I look right now.”
I’m sorry.
In the moment, all I can say is “Take that back! You’re so beautiful!” and shower them with genuine compliments and sincere admiration, hoping they believe me.
I look at my best friend and my 16-year-old neighbor and my big sister in detail, not having for one moment to search for beauty but being completely immersed in it, trying to understand how for one moment they don’t see what I see.
This topic tugging on my heart along with the opportunity to write a speech for class began my research concerning the definition of beauty.
Here, I came across an honest, eye-opening Ted Talk titled “In my Chair- A Makeup Artist’s Perspective on Beauty” by Eva DeVirgilis. After watching (and crying, if I’m being honest) I realized how tragic the biggest point of the speech was.
People are constantly apologizing for how they look.
I related on every level of her speech, from being the makeup artist/motivational speaker who has the pleasure of capturing a woman’s beauty and applying it her face, to being one of the women who sit in our makeup chairs, feeling hopeless about their physical condition constantly apologizing for the face I feel burdened by rather than blessed with.
Eloquently written and poignantly spoken, DeVirgilis recalls the only two types of women who do not apologize.
One being 97-years-old, appreciative and loving of every curve of her face and body, happy to be sitting upright and the other being a woman who was a survivor of breast cancer, longingly brushing her new wig and thanking the Lord for being alive.
While these two amazing types of women are beautiful, bold and strong, I am devastated that we seem to have to face the prospect of death for us to be unapologetically joyful for our appearance.
It devastates me that my best friend apologizes for her stunning face when she sits in front of me on prom day.
It devastates me that my mother apologizes for her crow’s feet before I even place a brush against her face.
It devastates me that I do the same thing.
I want to scream to my best friend that her face is the face of a woman full of grace; a face that is present in some of my dearest memories.
I want to hold my mom against my chest and tell her that every crinkle by her eyes grow deeper with each outburst of laughter and I am more joyful because of them.
When I look in the mirror, I want to remind myself that the eyes I deem too small and close together are the eyes of my father and grandmother; that they are sacred and beautiful.
I look at the women in front of me and see such beauty and it breaks my heart when they apologize for it.
With or without makeup you are beautiful. However, you are SO much more than that.
You are worthy.
In the words of Ava DeVirgilis,
“If lining my eyes brings symmetry to my face and to my mind, then I guess I’ll do it. And if adding a touch of color to my lips allows me to bring joy and color to my speech, then why the heck not. And if adding light reflection to my skin gives me the little boost of confidence to shine light on a seemingly superficial topic to a group of intellectuals then I will do it. And that makes me feel beautiful. And I will sit in my own chair and I will listen and believe that we are all beautiful.”
