In April 2007, I was 31 years old. It was my 10 year college reunion and I was training for my first half-ironman triathlon. My dietary disclipline was exemplary, and my exercise regimin was extraordinary. At 5'5" I was 117 pounds, 17% body fat, and very, very tan, with youthful hubris having flipped both my middle fingers to the gods of melanoma (sorry gods...I am very, VERY sorry). I grew my hair out, dyed it blonde, wedged myself into size 0 skinny jeans, and got laser hair removal.
I was fierce.
Looking.
Like this:
Now I am fierce, but it's just the bitchy, tired, over-extended kind of fierce that middle-aged women acquire naturally.
I am regularly appalled by what stares back at me in the mirror when I brush my teeth in the morning. However, I also have a 7 year old daughter who hawk-eyes my every move, so I feel the need to grapple with the issue of vanity.
Specifically, I want to eschew it, being a feminist and a humanist. However, I still find myself envying modelly, twenty-something women who have never even though of stretch marks or conversations about gender roles with their not-yet-born children. Which is ok. I'm ok with that. But I'm not ok with the effects that this model of feminine reality is having on my little girl.
In the middle of a yoga class, two days after my daughter mentioned that she needed makeup to "fix her skin" while watching me put on my own, I hatched a plan. I would spend the next (about) 9 months seeing if I could live without my vanity "fixes". Until my next birthday, when I turn 36.
When I've mentioned my nacent plan to friends, their reactions have ranged from horrified to mildly amused. One friend recoiled and responded, "Don't you like being a girl?" Another shook her head and assured me that this was a sign of depression. "You must not want to take care of yourself anymore. Next thing, your husband will leave you." Another girlfriend laughed, "So basically you're gonna pretend you're me for the next 9 months?"
Those are some of the responses I want to explore with this little experiment. I also want to observe my own, since I am pretty sure I will be an uncomfortable little laboratory subject. I DO want to see what effect, if any, this has on my marriage. I also wonder what impact it might have on my career and friendships.
So here are the rules. Anything I do for the sake of vanity alone (or primarily), has to stop. Self-care and health are exempt. So no worries...I will keep brushing my teeth. But I can't whiten them. I can cut my toe nails, but I can't put polish on them. I can buy new running shoes, but no new blahniks. You get the picture.
Next post, I'll lay the groundrules out in unbreakable form. Experiment starts September 1st. I feel myself wanting to chicken out already on one hand, and looking forward to it on the other. Throughout the experiment I'll center my posts around people's reactions, my experiences, my biggest fears and greatest hopes for how this will go, and the raw details of a year of living dangerously...makeupless.
Wish me luck...and that my grey grows in evenly ;)
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