My mother never bought cheap make-up. Watching her apply the creams, the foundation, all the colors carefully chosen just for her, products researched and saved for, discussed with Claudia at the make-up counter, make-up that enhanced, never camouflaged that beautiful light — watching her see herself in the mirror, I would imagine these were the times that maybe she caught a glimpse of what I always saw in her, and oh, how I wanted her to see it, to feel it, the beauty of her being.
If you wipe that off in a stroke of vanity, then you’d be missing the entirety. There is nothing vain about doing everything you can to present yourself at your best, mostly to your own reflection.
I had had a bit of a struggle the day before. I knew I needed extra care the next morning. Feeling the weight of the expensive lipstick in my hand, I had to smile. The cost of not realizing my own worth would be far greater. We were only going to the toll store on the side of the highway to replace our remote. We drove through the toll, then walked to the store. They didn’t have what we needed. We had to drive an extra 20 minutes to turn around and go back through the toll to get back home. We went nowhere, but I felt good. It wasn’t about being seen by others, but how I felt, how I saw myself. My mother taught me that.
It’s different for everyone. It may not be about the make-up for you. But find it — whatever it may be — whatever makes you stand a little taller, feel a little more confident. Find that thing, however big or small, that makes you smile back at the rouge of your heart’s reflection. The young girls are watching.
