Make-up was a dead end

Who knew beauty could be so complicated? For my birthday last year I decided to make my first serious foray into the world of makeup. I didn't know what I was getting into. In a naive way, I thought I would be able to show up at a makeup counter at a department store, buy an entire line of products, and be good to go. Looking back, I can't believe how absurd and laughable a notion that was.

The makeup artist at Nordstrom rattled off an overwhelming, large amount of steps meant to "prep, correct and conceal." I could barely keep up: face base, under eye cream, eye base, layering three eye shadows, gel eyeliner, mascara, foundation, sheer powder, bronzer, blush. When she was done, I looked in the mirror and felt conflicted. While I knew I now looked more conventionally "beautiful" I questioned if this was a step in the right direction.

My justification to wear makeup was tenuous at best. I was bored, I had recently gotten a new job with higher pay and I thought, "Why not?" Some irrational part of me believed that makeup was the one missing piece I needed to manage to attract a boyfriend. According to my then-logic, if cultivating my intellectual prowess and spiritual depth wasn't enough, if it hadn't managed to end the seven-year drought since my last romantic relationship, then maybe outer beauty paired with inner beauty would do the trick.

Well, it's almost a year later and I've spent a bunch of money, wrecked my skin and still don't have a boyfriend. What a bust.

T r a i t o r s (chronological use L to R)

Correctors, concealers, BB creams, foundations, cream and oil primers--brand after brand left me with dry, tight skin and pimples galore. Did I look great in pictures? Even glamorous? Sure! But at night, alone and makeup-less in front of the mirror with my own thoughts, I was unhappy, disappointed and doubting myself.

I know that for others, makeup isn't such an agonizing ordeal. Good on them. They are hashtag blessed.

My skin just won't abide make-up, but it's taken a while for me to finally give in to defeat. Each time a product wouldn't work for me, I'd return to Sephora, deflated, and an enthusiastic employee would suggest some new wonder product: a cleanser with a four star review, a serum, a foundation that's completely weightless and "totally buildable." I'd go home wanting badly for it to work for me; none of them did.

All this to say, I'm throwing in the towel when it comes to makeup. It's created more problems in my life than benefits.

On a deeper level, this is all about adequacy. It's about trust in God. I've spent so much time wondering why some women my age are dating, married and having kids, and I'm not. I know that God is not doling out rewards or punishments to women based on whether they "deserve" a boyfriend/husband/kids. On a bad day, though, I crumple in on myself in prayer or ignore God altogether in a passive-aggressive attempt to rebel against how he wants to order my life. Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret.

Look, no amount of navel-gazing or hand-wringing will get me a boyfriend any sooner. Makeup, new clothes, a better body, fancy haircut; it really doesn't make any difference. Perhaps this sounds bitter, but it's been my experience. Okay, okay, being single is not the end of the world; this much I know. It's painful, though.

I'm doing my level best to make the most of it. I'm reading a lot of books, joining rec leagues, going on fun outings with my other single friends. I have a lot of time to pray for others. I write short stories three paragraphs at a time. I talk to God about the things I'm thankful for. If I focus on other things maybe I won't feel so sad.

Until next time...

Yeah, I'm single

Yeah, I'm single.

In April I started working at an office where the median age is 55 years old. I am not sure what exactly causes my older female coworkers to be so concerned about my relationship status, but they have all asked me at one time or another (pretty out of the blue, I might add), "Do you have kids? Are you married? Do you have a boyfriend?" When I respond in the negative, they inevitably follow-up with, "What do you think about _____ [insert name of one of the only men between 25-35 years old in our office]? Do you like him?" At this point in the conversation I become very uncomfortable so usually reply evasively, "I'm a ghost" or "I am not real." Then they get really confused.

Maybe they are simply trying to connect with me or maybe I remind them of their daughter who is also in their twenties. Nevertheless, it is difficult not to take these matchmaking efforts personally, because they more or less imply that my life is simply not good enough if I don't have a husband to share it with, or something like that.

This year two of my childhood friends are getting married. It's really exciting and I am happy for them. Even so, I kind of dread attending their weddings. Weddings are a glaring reminder that Yeah, I'm single. They bring up the unanswerable question of "If my friends are getting married, then why not me?"

Yes, I am familiar with the many platitudes meant to soothe a despondent single woman such as myself:

• God knows you want a boyfriend/husband, and he will answer your prayers.
• God has someone in mind for you and he will be perfect for you!
• God's timing is better than your timing.
• Being single is great! You have so much flexibility!
• I'm sure there are plenty of guys who like you and you don't even know it.

These kinds of comments make me both angry and want to say, "Well, f--- it then" and just be numb about it all. I know they come from a place of wanting me to feel better, but perhaps a more appropriate response is, "That sucks that you aren't in a relationship but want to be. How can I support you?" The agony of being a single Christian woman is having to live in this really vulnerable place of simply waiting on God.

Perhaps the public persona I project is one of independence, competence, intelligence and strength, but those close to me know that I am sensitive, sentimental and quite the romantic. I haven't dated since 2010 and have had my fair share of unrequited crushes since then. I am not single by choice. The painful reality of my singleness is at times quite acute.

That being said, I am doing what I can to resist wallowing for too terribly long. I know how to soldier on, even if it means having to crawl in the times that I cannot even bring myself to walk.

Yeah, I'm single today and maybe I am not fully okay with it. I might cry about it today but tomorrow could be better. Yeah, it may just be.

Well, that's over.

So I can now say that I've had the complete 500 Days of Summer experience. I've been both protagonists now: Summer Finn, the heartbreaker, and Tom Hansen, the one with a broken heart. You guys, I really think it's making me mature and wise; I'm not even joking. It's making me a more compassionate person.

When I was young I didn't understand why people in relationships would treat each other in shitty ways and make each other cry, but now my eyes have been opened. I get it so much more. I don't judge people for making mistakes in relationships, hurting each other inadvertently[i] because of fear, selfishness, misunderstandings and incorrect assumptions.

I was really struck by a statement Rashida Jones made in an interview for her movie, Celeste and Jesse Forever which she co-wrote and acted in. Paraphrase: “I’ve learned not to take things so personally. When people hurt me, I’ve learned that very rarely are they doing it maliciously or intentionally. So I just need to get over that.” Ugh, it seems so obvious, but it’s so helpful to remember this.

The Bingley/Bennett saga I’ve off-handedly mentioned in some of my past posts is now over and done. And what could I possibly write to express the odd mixture of relief, sadness, anxiety and peace I am feeling[ii]?

Last July or so I started being interested in a person, kind of out of the blue. As my dad says, “The heart wants what the heart wants,” but I didn’t know why my heart wanted what it wanted. I was confused by my own feelings and attraction to this person, who, in my opinion, was not necessarily the kind of person I’d usually feel drawn to.

My first instinct when I sense that I might be starting to “like” someone is to suppress the feelings and try and amputate them, as if they were something unnatural, undesirable and foreign. I do this because I have internalized 1 Corinthians 7[iii] beyond what is actually healthy and helpful. I automatically assume that any “crush” I may have on a person must be an idol that must be destroyed as soon as possible. Joshua Harris, if I ever encounter you in the street, I will jokingly strangle you but it won’t be a joke at all. Ugh, curse you and your “infatuation” talk and “one size fits all” Christian courtship paradigm!!!

That rant aside, I continue my narrative. I sensed that I “liked” this certain person last July, and decided to take a gamble, be mature, and not just deny and stuff down my feelings but actually acknowledge them, feel them and see where it would take me. Maybe a romantic relationship with someone could be something good and useful, not just a means to distract me from my devotion and life lived in service to God. Perhaps God could have a good purpose in two people becoming partners and working as a team together. I was willing to give it all the benefit of the doubt.

And yet, I found myself embroiled in the often overly complicated “dance” of not knowing if this other person liked me back, and of not knowing if I was making it clear enough that I was interested. Throughout it all I was praying, “God, what do you think? If this isn’t supposed to go anywhere, would you make that clear? If you want it to go somewhere, would you please talk to [insert person’s name] so that they’ll take the initiative to talk to me about it?”

And I waited. Oh, did I wait. It was so confusing! It was uncomfortable.

I told close friends and family: “I think we’re on the road to nowhere.” Now I know without a doubt that we actually were. And now it’s over.

I don’t regret opening up my heart and allowing myself to “like” someone. I’m proud of myself for being fearless and putting myself out there, even if it meant getting my heart moderately broken. I applaud myself for being vulnerable.

I may appear strong and intelligent, articulate and competent, but I’m never going to apologize for or hide the fact that I am human, sensitive and deeply desire to one day to be with someone that will love and care for me.

It didn’t work out this time. You know, that’s okay. Six months of unemployment and a failed graduate school attempt have taught me that despite the seeming “dead ends” of life, God’s always got something greater up his sleeve.

God, you devious bastard. Looking forward for what you have for me next.

---

[i] I wrote “inadvertently” for a reason. Keep in mind that I absolutely believe that those who perpetrate psychological and physical abuse, any kind of intimate partner violence, must be held accountable. If perpetrators aren't seeking active treatment or counseling in order to develop non-destructive ways of coping and engaging in conflict, they should be condemned and penalized to the fullest extent of the law, goddammit.

[ii] I made a weird break-up YouTube playlist that is speaking to my soul, if you’re interested in listening. http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLasRvYvSQDcVvhbUhMetxz8jR6jAo6bVH

[iii] “I would like you to be free from concern. An unmarried man is concerned about the Lord’s affairs—how he can please the Lord. But a married man is concerned about the affairs of this world—how he can please his wife—and his interests are divided. An unmarried woman or virgin is concerned about the Lord’s affairs: Her aim is to be devoted to the Lord in both body and spirit. But a married woman is concerned about the affairs of this world—how she can please her husband. I am saying this for your own good, not to restrict you, but that you may live in a right way in undivided devotion to the Lord” (1 Corinthians 7:23-35).

Self-Hatred

Every time I have tried to write about this I get too afraid and I quit before I even begin. I think it's because I feel that I haven't "arrived" at a "good place" regarding self-hatred, but I've decided I'm never really going to ever "arrive," so I may as well just write about it. Warning: This may get dark.

Since a young age I've always had a deep-seated fear of not being good enough. Okay--before you protest with April, don't be so hard on yourself; what are you talking about; you're so good at _____, etc. let me explain. I'm not fishing for compliments by being self-deprecating. I know that my fear of inadequacy is dramatic, and I know that it's irrational. Knowing it's irrational doesn't make it any less real or powerful.

The way I've coped with this nagging fear that deep-down I'm a useless deadbeat is by trying to be perfect, by pushing myself. So I try to excel and most of all, try to be competent. Capable. This is unrestricted and applies to all domains of life: academically, professionally, physically(!), relationally and spiritually. No matter how "good" I am at any certain area, I can always be better. It's exhausting to demand so much of myself and all it does is feed my need to be "adequate," whatever that means.

A couple of weeks ago I came face-to-face with my self-hatred and it was terrifying. I had a moment of realization that the Charles Bingley/Jane Bennet relationship I'd mentioned in an earlier post--yah, that whole thing was more just a one-sided unrequited interest on my part. FOOM--what little self-confidence I had imploded completely. HE DOESN'T LIKE ME! my inner voice wailed, as I spiraled down into the depths of the it's confirmed--I'm no good inaccuracy-chasm. Frankly, I was heartbroken, and beating myself up even more for even liking a guy in the first place (setting myself up to get hurt). It was just an awful week. It was like all of the dormant negative self-talk within decided to ignite and I'm, like, surprised I wasn't consumed by the fire? (God, am I writing horribly on purpose? Whatever. That's more negative self-talk right there.)

But my mini-crisis had less to do with this boy than it did with my own toxic thinking. I think cuz I'm so afraid of not being good enough, I have this sick, slanted view where I try and confirm that fear. Like, when I get rejected (romantically or otherwise) I think to myself, "Oh, yah, I guess I should have seen that coming. Not. good. enough." Things that would appeal to my vanity (like getting offered the permanent position at work or being complimented on the way I look), I try and downplay, like excelling in whatever is just to be expected, like NBD, why all this hoopla; I didn't even do that much to deserve it?

Wow, it's cathartic to write down all these dysfunctional thought patterns. I mean, I recognize them as they're happening, but it's just such a habit to be down on myself and accusing myself that it's a huge effort to fight against it.

Last week was extremely alarming because the way I decided to cope with not being liked back by this guy, or whatever, was to be all anorexic. What the heck? I was hating myself so much, I was just like exercising as penance for being such an unlikeable person and ate, like, a bite of my lunch and threw the rest away. Like, my brain was so twisted and messed up that it actually made me want to gag when I put food in my mouth. As a friend aptly put it, You don't deserve that (the food you're about to eat). I was internalizing the stress by punishing myself. Ah, what the heck, brain, why are you so sick???

Thankfully, after some prayer and good conversations with close friends and family, I've mellowed-out quite a bit. I'm eating three full meals a day, and not feeling horrible about myself. It was an eye-opening, albeit hollowing (and "hallowing," I suppose?) experience to realize how much I hate myself. I know, it sounds super bizarre, but I'm all for self-reflection and self-awareness, so this was fascinating in a masochistic way.

It would take a whole nother post to unpack how self-hatred interacts with Christianity. Maybe I'll get to that someday. Or maybe I'll just watch TV with Rachel and eat chocolate and do my nails. You know how it goes.

"We're all just hanging by a thread."

All-righty. It's time for some mo' big-picture wordthoughtvomit from yours tru. Topic: chronic conditions.

So. Chronic illness. Diabetes, SAD, gout, EDNOS, chemical dependency, chronic pain, insomnia, generalized anxiety, bipolar II, arthritis, scoliosis, hypertension... Chronic illness touches us all, even the seemingly able-bodied and youthful--even *gasp* MYSELF. So if we're all shouldering this universal burden in one way or another, how do we all manage to "make it work" rather than slump over, defeated?

I've been dealing with shoulder/arm pain for over a year now due to an injury from a Bally Total Fitness hip-hop class (I already know how absurd this is; you don't have to point it out to me). I've done physical therapy, massage therapy and just bought a spinal traction device off of eBay. At a certain point I realized, "I might just have to deal with this for the rest of my life. Sh1t! FML! #ugh"

At the same time, I'm coming to grips with facing my mental health baggage--my tendency toward anxiety and depression. I've accepted that this is how I am. This is me. I'm high-strung. I'm dramatic. At any time I can spiral down to the depths of fear-induced irrationality. Aight. So be it.

The tough thing about chronic illness is that you have no control over it. All you can do is resolve to address it, rather than live in denial and face even worse aggravated consequences down the road (e.g. When Tracy Morgan disregarded his diabetes and nearly lost his sight).

It would easy to be consumed with thoughts of "Why me?" or "Woe is me" or "I hate myself for being the way that I am." Right? To be the victim of your own illness?

Living with a chronic condition is tiring because it requires constant upkeep and maintenance. E.g. to avoid depression I need to eat well, exercise aerobically on a regular basis, take twice-daily Vitamin D supplements, journal, pray, make sure to socialize--there's no break! Tending to chronic illness requires me to constantly being on my A-game because a slip-up means that my illness will take the reins and I'll be in bad shape. And it'll be my fault. Ack, I have to do what for the rest of my life? There's no chance of waking up and magically being absolved of anxiety. It just doesn't work that way.

So I guess what I wanted to do with this post was encourage folks that may be tired of having to deal with their ___[insert disability/"condition"]__. I feel you. It sucks. It's exhausting work.Our bodies and minds betray us at the most inopportune moments.

Just do one thing for me, though, will you? Be really, really, really patient with yourself. Please.

Be as compassionate with yourself as you would with a close family member living with a chronic condition. If you slip-up on your low-glycemic diet or have anorexic thoughts or skip your PT exercises for a day or find yourself despite EVERYTHING still feeling sad and anxious and unable to sleep--just...don't be too hard on yourself, okay? I write this just as much as a reminder to myself as I do to it to you. Just everyone go love themselves. K?

*hugs*

FAT.

So I've been tossing and turning, trying to fall asleep tonight. My brain cannot shut down and be quiet; I think "processing" through a blog post might help. I've been wanting to post on this topic for a long while now, but it seems that every time I begin, there's simply too much to write about and I give up. Well, we'll see how much rambling I can fit--just don't expect this to be particularly concise or coherent.

In the past five years or so my interest in body image has skyrocketed. Recently it's been constantly on my mind. In high school I read Can't Buy My Love by Jean Kilbourne as an assignment for rhetoric class. She writes about the power of media (specifically advertising) to shape the way women see themselves. It raised my consciousness to realize that beauty ads were meant to make me feel dissatisfied with the way I looked (so that I would buy the marketed product to "fix" my "flaws"), food ads were meant to make me crave unhealthy junk while punishing/berating myself for "indulging" in them and clothing/fashion ads were meant to make me idolize thinness, youth and whiteness. (Sidenote: I'm starting to realize more and more that women are seriously oppressed--this whole "thin" beauty ideal is just the tip of the iceberg. It's awful.)

THEN last year I'm so glad that my roomie Hillary did an internship with NEDA, the National Eating Disorders Association, which provided many opportunities to dialogue about how pervasive body-hatred is among women. (Another sidenote: However widespread body dissatisfaction may be, Hillary & Faith really opened my eyes to see what women WITHOUT it can look like. I noticed right away from living with them that they hadn't internalized all the pressures to be super thin--I never heard negative-self talk from them about their bodies! E.g. "I need to lose five pounds." "I think I'm getting fat." "Ugh, my thighs are HUGE!" Talk about a breath of fresh air.) I read The Religion of Thinness by Michelle Lelwica, which articulated well the way women perpetuate the need to be thin. She compared it to a religion with rules (be self-controlled, disciplined, avoid "bad" foods) and rituals (overexercising, binging, purging, starvation). She was also really into the mindfulness practice of "listening to your body" for hunger/satiety signals and stuff, but I'd leave that by the wayside if I were you.

And THEN this past summer I read this book called Perfect Girls, Starving Daughters by Courtney E. Martin which I really enjoyed...mostly because I share all social identities with the author except for race (young adult, female, middle class, college-educated). She shares a lot of stories from her own life and the stories of friends. What struck me most was that any woman, really, can potentially develop an eating disorder. Like, seriously. We're all just hanging by a thread. As Hillary wisely told me, all women lie somewhere on a spectrum between "I love my body and am impervious to pressures to conform to a socially constructed beauty norm" & compulsive, disordered thoughts and behavior around food.

I think about where personally I fall on that spectrum today, and I would say I'm somewhere in the middle, probably more towards the compulsive/disordered side to be completely honest. I struggle with comparing my body (especially my legs) to other womens'. Sometimes I feel like food is my enemy, trying to get me fat. Sometimes I exercise for an hour at a time to desperately avoid being fat.

Now that I've hit 21 years, my metabolism has started to slow down. The overeating, rich desserts and fatty snacks actually catch up to me instead of magically metabolizing overnight. I feel a loss of control sometimes when I see that I have gained ten pounds since beginning college.

A lot of the time I feel foolish for being a victim to my own vanity. I get down on myself for being vulnerable to societal norms and pressures to conform. I think, "I should be above this! This is all bullsh1t and I know it!" But I think this is something that I'll battle for my whole life. I pray for God's grace and for his help because I'd really like to be thinking about bigger and better/more useful things than my caloric intake and the way I can make my thighs look thinner by wearing the right pair of jeans.

In the meantime, I've found some helpful tools for fighting against the pressure without and within to be really, really thin!
1. Limit my media consumption: TV just reinforces the paradigm that thin is best. Fat people are invisible (not represented) or the butt of jokes. (I could do an entire additional post about the normalization of frighteningly skinny women in TV, movies and magazines!)
2. adiosbarbie.com This website inspires me! The women who post here are smart, savvy and amazingly counter-cultural. Extra plus: They talk about intersections with race!
3. Talk to other women about it: Every woman I know is affected by the pressure to be thin, though we rarely bring it up. Whenever I do mention it and open up about my struggle with it, I find my friends and family opening right back up to me, too. You'd be surprised with the solidarity you can encounter out there, especially from friends who are vulnerable like you but keep trying to FIGHT THE POWER (I mean you, Rachel!)!
4. Lift my eyes up: Spending time in prayer and reading the Bible really help me to gain a bigger perspective on life. Life is not just about what you can see with your eyes or being seen by others. Being thin/attractive may grant status and power in the world, but that's not really what I want, anyway. Though they are tempting (status & power). ;)

Okay, that was a lot. Glad to get it outta my system. Stay strong, my fellow women.

Let's go!!!!