Beauty
A few years ago, as a Mother’s Day gift, I invited my mother to accompany me to a fundraiser luncheon in Dallas. The luncheon benefited an organization that I have worked with, and the guest speaker was Maria Shriver, someone that I admire.
Pre-COVID-19, the luncheon was held in one of the ballrooms at the Hilton Anatole Hotel. As we made our way into the ballroom, my mother scanned the surroundings. It was a cavernous space (one of the larger ballrooms in the hotel), and every inch was beautifully decorated, with 2,000+ (mostly women) who were also “beautifully decorated.”
I thought I noticed appreciation for the surroundings in my mother’s face. She is unapologetic about wanting to be surrounded by beauty. At 80+, my mother remains a beautiful woman. Some of it is due to genetics, but she is also vigilant about her appearance and continues to work on her skincare regime. She dresses with a style reminiscent of someone much younger. She maintains a beautiful home and still has a flare for entertaining. When we are together, it is not uncommon for people to comment on her attractiveness. Truth be told, I often feel pride when I hear those comments.
As we were seated at our table at the luncheon, my mother leaned over to me and whispered, “I have never seen so many beautiful women in one place in my life.”
Hearing the comment, I mistakenly thought my mother was referring to the “Dallas image.” Dallas women have long been personified as glamorous and over-the-top with BIG hair, BIG make-up, BIG fashion. I’ve even made jokes about it with my friends.
It wasn’t until several years later that I understood the meaning behind my mother’s comment. We were having a meal at a restaurant in the community where I spent my childhood. I’m usually oblivious to my surroundings, rarely noticing the people in proximity. Perhaps it was because I was out of my element. Or perhaps, it was because I heard someone at a nearby table proclaim their Christian superiority while simultaneously laughing at a disparaging remark about someone else.
The remark caught my attention, and I immediately looked at the man who had said it. He was large, dressed in ill-fitting jeans and a novelty t-shirt and looked unkept. Then I began to observe the other people sitting around us, more notably, their appearance. Everyone, male and female, was dressed similarly.
My immediate reaction was, “Shelli, you’re not in Dallas anymore,” followed by – you guessed it – judgment.
I have a lot of trauma from being in similar conversations with people who have used their Christian beliefs to make hurtful comments about others. So, in a matter of seconds, I went from having a meal with my mother and stepfather to self-righteous indignation, judging everyone in the restaurant by their appearance, and by default, their opinions and worth.
I immediately made a negative comment about how everyone in the restaurant looked. It was then that my mother reminded me of the luncheon in Dallas.
“I enjoy being in a space where others care about their appearance, too,” she said.
I’ve often chastised my mother about her preoccupation with appearance, but on that day, I had to confront my own biased preference for being in the presence of people whose sense of style mirrors my own. I am my mother’s daughter!
Let me be clear – I am not blaming my mother for my shallow thoughts. Mothers, and women in general, are burdened with way too much of the blame for society’s ills. I own every opinion I have – whether it was derived from deep self-awareness or lazy reliance on outdated ideals.
On Sunday morning, I sent a text to my friend Mary Ann who lives in Fort Worth. I was remembering a visit to the Fort Worth Botanic Gardens a few Novembers ago when the Japanese Maple trees were exploding in Fall colors. I asked Mary Ann if she wanted to meet me at the gardens in hopes of re-capturing the beauty in my memories.
I met Mary Ann at a meeting in Austin a few months after I had moved to Dallas in 2008. After spending 20+ years working in a space where I knew multiple people in any meeting I attended, my first meetings in Texas were spent scanning the rooms of unfamiliar faces while trying to find a place to sit. That day, my gaze landed on an attractive woman about my age, who was impeccably dressed. There were plenty of empty chairs in the room when I arrived, yet I chose to sit next to Mary Ann, because she “looked” like someone I wanted to get to know.
While Mary Ann’s appearance may have been the initial reason I chose to sit next to her, it is her intellectual curiosity, quest to be a life-long learner, and gentle grace at steering me away from the judger path that has made us good friends for the past 13 years. Mary Ann is still outwardly beautiful, but her soul is even more so. Mary Ann’s mantra is “speak the truth in love.” I aspire to do that.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the “beauty” expectations that our culture and society has placed on women since I finished Huma Abedin’s memoir, Both/And: A Life in Many Worlds. Abedin, who has worked for Hillary Clinton for 25 years, reminded us that during the 2016 election, Hillary spent the equivalent of 25 days (600 hours) getting her hair and makeup done. She has been criticized for her hairstyles and wardrobe more than her policy ideas, while male public figures have escaped the same criticism. Hillary has said that it takes a lot of effort “just to be a woman in the public eye.”
I think it takes a lot of effort just to be a woman. Period.
From the beginning of my career in 1983 to when I started working remotely in 2020, I spent two hours every day (not just workdays, but EVERY day) showering, blow drying my hair, putting on makeup, and ironing my outfit for the day. That’s 14 hours per week, 728 hours per year, times 37 years. My husband shaves, showers, and puts on the clothes that I ironed for him in less than 30 minutes.
My morning routine is different these days for a variety of reasons. I still shower and blow dry my hair every morning, but my makeup is minimal. My iron is used so infrequently that it now collects dust. And guess what? I now have extra time to do things I really want to do. I’ve been able to fit in more things that benefit my physical and emotional health such as exercise and therapy. I spend more time reading and listening to podcasts. And, I spend more time in meaningful conversations.
These days, I’m also more likely to seek out someone who doesn’t look like me when I enter a room. I’m more likely to sit next to the transgender person, the young woman whose hair color is a rainbow of hues, the young Black man whose hair is a weave of dreadlocks. I enjoy hearing their stories and learning about their experiences.
I’ve also learned that beauty can be both fleeting and ever-present, depending on where you look.
On our visit to the Botanic Gardens, Mary Ann and I discovered that the leaves on the trees had not begun to change yet (this is Texas, not New England). However, the weather was picture perfect, the Koi fish in the ponds were bright and playful, and the street tacos from the food trucks were delicious.
And the day spent with my beautiful friend was just that – beautiful.
As far as my judgmental attitude, well I’m still working on that. I want my behavior to reflect the person I want to be. I don’t want to assume I know the souls of people in Dallas or rural Oklahoma based on their appearance. But I’m probably not there yet.
#stilllearning
#stillgrowing
#stillaworkinprogress