The Beauty of a Blank Page
As a writer, there is nothing more beautiful than a blank page. It’s fresh, clean, and full of possibilities. In this month I’ve dubbed “Makeup-Free May,” I’ve come to see my face as just that, a beautiful blank page, but it’s taken me every bit of the last thirty-one days to get here.
I remember finding my first grey hair. I pulled it from my scalp and stared at it in disbelief. Keeping it pinched between my fingers, I walked over to my husband and held it up in front of his face. “What color is this?” I asked, panicking. The man wisely pled the fifth and I stormed off to call my mother. I barely waited for her to say “Hello,” before shrieking, “How old were you when you got your first grey hair?!?” She met my meltdown with heartless laughter.
God claimed victory over my body image issues long ago, but it wasn’t until recently I realized I was still struggling, not with my body anymore but with my age. It could have something to do with the steady increase of my grey hairs, the deepening creases along my forehead and around my eyes, the darkening of my freckles, or the sudden crepe-like texture of the skin above my chest. It could have something to do with my ob-gyn assuring me the likelihood of pregnancy is dropping fast, and that the changes in my cycle are simply because I’m “approaching middle age” so I’m not ovulating as often. It could be that I’ve scheduled my first mammogram. (My apologies for over-sharing, especially to my male readers.) Those are all harsh realities I’m facing to be sure, but more than anything, I think it has to do with the loud, blunt messages our culture is sending out to women just like me.
You know the ones I mean; the anti-aging campaigns that have dominated the beauty industry and taken over our television screens, Pinterest boards, and social media accounts. Everywhere we look we see ads telling us old is ugly and young is beautiful. These ads promote products that will turn back time, reversing the aging process as if they were a fountain of youth in a bottle. It sounds too good to be true, and yet millions of women fall for it, even me. I’ve purchased wrinkle-filling cream, “simply ageless” foundations, and under-eye collagen-boosting whatever they call it. I’ve dyed my roots in futile attempts to keep the greys at bay. I’ve purchased every product within my budget and I’d be lying if I didn’t fantasize from time to time about trying Botox. That is why I challenged myself to abstain from makeup and hair dye for a month. I was no longer happy with the natural, fresh face I saw in the mirror every morning. All I saw were the spots, the lines, and the greys. All I heard was the ticking of time, pushing me reluctantly toward my 40s. My pursuit to fight aging was becoming an idol.
I chose to spend my month sitting in Proverbs 31:10-31, “The Wife of Noble Character,” to remind myself of how God defines a beautiful woman. Twenty-one verses and not one of them references her appearance. In fact, it says “Charm is deceptive and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised,” (v.30). The word fleeting, by definition, means to last a very short time. This is why the world’s definition of beauty is so backward. The world would have you believe that beauty is something you can chase after, something you can attain and hold on to forever if you just have the right products, procedures, or routines. Instead, God defines beauty as having character; delighting in our duty, making careful and calculated decisions that reflect His timing, embracing the poor and offering help to the needy, being trustworthy with money, speaking with wisdom, never fearing the future, and earning the respect and admiration of our family. None of these things can be achieved by staying young. To grow in character, we must live, and the longer we live, the more we’ll gain in wisdom, strength, and God-defined beauty. All month long I prayed, Lord, help me to stop chasing after youth like it’s a thing to be attained. Help me to be as intentional in pursuing noble character as You are in pursuing me.
Over the last month, I’ve put on a new set of glasses, intentionally seeing things for what they truly are. When I see an ad for anti-aging beauty products, I see the hours of editing and filtering that go into it. When I watch celebrities walk the red carpet on tv, I noticed the frozen smiles and amplified lips, unnatural and surgically enhanced. There are always those who never seem to age but instead of asking “What’s their secret?” I asked, “At what cost?”. I think about the friends I’ve known who have never set foot outside their house without makeup on their face, friends who would rather shave their heads than be seen with greys. I neither judge nor blame them. The world is feeding them lies. The world is telling them aging isn’t a privilege, it’s a death sentence, and they are believing every word. I believed them too, but I refuse to any longer.
Sidenote: I’m not what you may call a feminist by any means, but can we discuss the double standard there is for aging between men and women? A friend of mine is a renowned fashion influencer with a vast following, primarily because of her inclusiveness to all sizes and ages. She speaks boldly against the social norms that say thin and young equals beautiful. Yet she is frequently asked, “Do you plan on dying your hair when you start to get greys?” Her response is always, “I don’t plan on dying my hair, and neither does my husband,” because of course, no one ever asks men that question. When a man’s hair turns that salt and pepper color, no one asks him if he’s going to dye it. I’ve never seen a man in an anti-aging skin product ad, have you? Men aren’t being told that aging makes them less attractive. So why are women? Why are we allowing ourselves to be saddled with such unrealistic and unattainable expectations? But I digress.
After thirty-one days of embracing a “natural” look, I’ve learned to look past the fine lines, dark spots, uneven skin tone, and tired eyes. Instead, I just see myself, a beautiful blank page: unmasked, free from insecurities, unhindered by comparison and criticism, blind and deaf to the lies of the world. I see myself through the eyes of my husband and children, none of whom find me any less beautiful without makeup and with more grey hairs. My husband asked me if I would go back to dying my hair and wearing makeup again come June first. I told him it wasn’t about whether I did or didn’t, it was about my why. If I go back to coloring my roots and dabbing concealer under my eyes because I’m dissatisfied with how I look otherwise, I haven’t heard God very well this month. If I lack confidence around other women without mascara and lipstick, I need to go back to the feet of Jesus and tune in longer and harder than I did before.
From here on out my use of hair dye and makeup will be minimal, if at all. I’ve told my daughter that makeup should only be used to enhance what God’s already given us, not to cover it up. I believe that and I embrace it. I will also embrace my age. I’m turning 40 in five months. I refuse to let that scare me. I don’t want to be dragged kicking and screaming over the hill. I want to twirl at the top and roll down the other side, like when we were kids and giggled our way to the bottom, acquiring grass stains along the way. I don’t want to waste another minute worrying about looking “old.” I’d rather spend my time developing a heart and character that is beautiful in the sight of God. After all, the women I know that aged well are not women who dye their hair and don makeup every day, they are women who love God and speak biblical truth, encouragement and love others well. They’ve allowed God to write His story on their blank pages. They are the most beautiful women I know.
“Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.” -1Peter 3:3-4
My journal entries from Makeup-Free May:
Day 1: Got dressed for church. Grabbed my makeup bag from under the bathroom sink, looked in the mirror, and remembered I wasn’t wearing makeup this month. But I looked so tired. Maybe I could just get by with mascara? No. Day one is far too early to start cheating. So I spent extra time on my hair to make up for it. Didn’t feel any questioning stares or judging eyes on me AT ALL as I walked through church. Is it possible everyone else is just as narcissistic as I am? Not at all what I anticipated. Checked my face in the car’s vanity mirror way more than usual both before and after church.
Day 2: Second day of wearing nothing but moisturizer and chapstick. The temperature outside reached the high 80s with a humidity level of 97%. Started sweating. Wondered why my eyes were constantly stinging until it dawned on me: I had no layer of foundation to lock in my moisturizer and it was now running into my eyes. I cursed Gulf Coast living until I saw how dewy my skin was. Holy smokes was I glowing?
Day 3: Purchased a Dove beauty bar to cleanse my face at night. (I used to use a makeup remover wipe at the end of every day.) Fell in love with the fresh scent and the way my skin still looks clean and bright by the time I woke up. Reminded why I love Dove skincare products and all their age-embracing, size-inclusive, positive body image, and real beauty campaigns. (No, this is not sponsored.)
Day 4: Received an email from the local YMCA inviting me to join their “Active Adults” classes. This included things like Bunko and Mexican Train Dominoes. They must have seen me at the gym with my grey roots and crow’s feet and added me to their email list.
Day 5: While pouring my coffee my seven-year-old bluntly pointed out, “Mom, I’m noticing a lot of grey hairs on your head. Why aren’t you doing something about that?” Wonder where he gets the audacity to voice such thoughts before I’ve had my coffee, then realize this kind of attitude is exactly why I’m doing this experiment. I don’t want my kids to think I have to do anything with my grey hairs other than embrace them. The ten-year-old daughter chimes in, “I think you still look beautiful Mommy, even without makeup and more grey hairs.” Determine to buy every single thing off her Amazon wish list.
Day 6: Started to realize how fresh and bright my face looks throughout the day. I was so sure the absence of makeup would make my face look fatigued and draw further attention to the aging that’s taking place but I’m wondering if it’s the opposite: maybe the layers of concealer, foundation, blush, and eye shadow were making me look older. I never did like the sight of my makeup removal wipes smeared with various shades of nudes and pinks. It made me feel like I was trying too hard to cover up the natural me. Now I just wash my bare face and see an equally bare face staring back at me. There’s no changing over from “fancy face” to “natural face” anymore. It’s just me.
Day 7: Attended a women’s event at church, sans makeup. Was told by three separate women how beautiful I looked. Only one knew I was going make-up free for May.
Day 8: Mother’s Day. My kids left sweet heart-shaped notes all around the house for me to find. One had an encouraging word and drawing from my daughter that said, “You are NOT old!” Next to it was a picture of an old person with wrinkles.
Day 14: Haven’t been sleeping well, struggling with back pain. My husband keeps telling me how exhausted I look. Really wish I could at least hide behind some concealer and mascara. “Fake it til you make it” isn’t an option this month. I’ve always embraced authenticity in my writing and speaking. Now I’m embracing it in my appearance, and I guess that’s not a bad thing.
Day 17: After dinner tonight my son came up to me and held me tight. He pressed his face into mine and stared very closely, taking in all my features. I asked, “Justice, tell me the truth. Do all these grey hairs and no makeup make me look old?” A sly smile spread across his face as he thought. “Choose your words carefully,” I teased. He giggled. “Mommy, you don’t look old. You look 29!” I pulled him in tighter for a hug and said, “You’re my favorite child.”
Day 18: Realized that while I checked myself in the mirror way more than usual on day 1, in the last 2 weeks I’ve rarely looked in the mirror. There’s no reason to. I know my eyeliner isn’t smudged. I know my eye shadow isn’t worn off. I know my face isn’t shiny from the oil. I don’t need to freshen my lipstick.
Day 29: I’ve been fighting a nasty head cold for the last two days. It shows on my face. As I readied myself for church this morning I desperately wished I could at least throw on some mascara, a little concealer or blush, anything to liven up my pale and fatigued skin. My daughter eyed me over breakfast and said, “Mom, you look rough. Like, worse. A lot worse.” Later over dinner, my son told me how beautiful I look without makeup. I felt affirmed in my decision of choosing him as my favorite child.