Tonight, thy name is Ghia.
Vanity. What can I say. Women, and men suffer from it. Only the very young and the very old don’t worry about it that much. And for the most part, I also don’t worry about it too much either. Mostly.
Alas. I could not face the grey head staring at me in the morning anymore. Wavy or not, these days I’m wearing a halo – and not because I’m so saintlike! So, I succumbed to vanity’s lure and purchased the cheapest box of hairdye I could find. Revlon colour 33. Or rather color 33. And now I’m waiting for it to magically make me look years younger. As if it would take away the crow’s feet and the possible liverspots, the dents and dings of a lifetime’s neglect. Well, why else do it?
Why not just revel in the fact that I’ve earned every grey hair? Why not just accept the fact that I’m really not a spring chicken anymore, and should accept that fact? I’ll probably start looking at it in that way once I’m over sixty. Maybe. And it’s not as if this is something I do all that regularly either.
Might just be the fact that a change is as good as a holiday. Or that I’m washing that man right out of my hair 😉
That being said. I don’t think I’m all that vain. If I was, I would spend much more money on facial care than I do. Might even go to a gym every so often. Or buy more feminine clothes. Wear contact lenses instead of glasses. Do the heels and skirt thing way more often than I currently do.
Vanity has become a huge industry. Clothes, bags, shoes, magazines, hair products, skin products, make up, perfume. Young girls strive to become the face of something or other. And other women emulate them. Men want them. The myth is perpetuated that all females are pre-pubescent stickfigures with no shoulders, no boobs, a skeletal bone structure, dainty feet – all of which I never was or had, and now, will likely never have or be.
And that’s why, I think, I’m not as vain as some females I’ve come across in my life. I am what i am. I look the way I do. I’m built the way I’m built. I have the feet I’m going to die with. Will it help me at all to bemoan the fact that i’m not a little woman? In more ways than one actually! In answer to my own question, no, it won’t.
Saw a friend of mine yesterday. She reckons she’s always admired me for the fact that I’m my own person. That I don’t much care what the world around me thinks of me. Don’t know if that was a real compliment or rather a way of saying that I should maybe care about others’ view of me more than I do! I’m going to take it as a compliment though. Since it means that out there in the big world a few females have seen me, and maybe, one day, want to be me. Not because they really know me, but because what i am might be something for them to strive towards.
And that, I think, is not a wasted life. To live my own values and be admired for them, no matter how reluctant the admiration, would be worth it. If I can teach women out there through my daily life that it;s OK not to have a man at your side. And it’s OK to have one, or to want one – the main thing is, it must be what’s good for YOU. Not what’s good for your family, or your friends, or society. It must be what’s good for you as a singular individual. Ultimately, you are the one that will pay the price for all your decisions. Therefore you should always do what’s good for you. Even if there are kids involved – believe me, if you make the difficult decision to look after yourself, you will automatically become somebody better for those kids as well. And, in the process, teach them that sometimes the hardest decisions has the best outcomes.
Or, maybe I’m just spouting nonsense. Might be the fumes that went to my head – do pardon the pun! But here I am, warts and all, and now with a head full of Revlon Colour 33 – long may it shine 🙂